Retribution
by Jessica237
Summary: EC. Justice is societal. Revenge is personal. Post 7x25.
1. one

**Title:** Retribution  
**By:** Jessica  
**Pairing:** Eric/Calleigh  
**Rating:** T  
**Timeline:** Postseason seven.  
**Summary:** Justice is societal. Revenge is personal.

**A/N:** For Calleigh, this is not my favorite genre of fic, and I do know that there is a certain amount of scrutiny that comes with putting her in a situation such as this. However, this is a fic that was begging to be written right after the finale, and I can only hope that I can do it justice. Thanks for reading. :)

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**/1/**

It had been hours since the last sliver of daylight had faded into the horizon, but for Calleigh Duquesne, the physical manifestation of darkness finally matched the emotions she'd battled for the greater part of the afternoon. The shadows that danced menacingly along the walls of the locker room were unfazed by the low flicker of the fluorescent bulbs overhead, dying lights that offered only a cold, unwelcoming illumination to the room's sole occupant. Alone she sat on the bench, having all but collapsed there after weakly pushing her way through the door.

She was the picture of dejection; a darkened, dreary deviation from her usual sunny disposition. Her shoulders slumped as a deep sigh of frustration escaped her lips, for a moment letting down the falsely strengthened façade she'd struggled to hold up for most of the day. Head bowed, she rubbed tiredly at her scratchy eyes, pushing back the burn of both exhaustion and unshed tears. Every part of her body ached with that exhaustion; it was all-consuming and overwhelming, and were it not for that, there was no way Calleigh would've stepped away from the case at hand, not even for a second.

But it had become too much to carry as the sun had set – the pain, the confusion, the sheer guilt eating away at her. She'd needed a quiet moment; a few minutes away from the bustling interior of the lab – so much more active than she might've usually found it at night. If there was anything that could bring together the ranks within like nothing else, it was the loss – _possible_ loss, she corrected herself immediately – of one of their own. Just the thought left her shivering, on the one hand grateful for such a sudden influx of lab techs and officers, all of them overcome with the need to find Eric.

On the other hand, it was almost too much for her to handle. Calleigh was almost certain she was imagining it, but she could almost feel the scrutiny of so many pairs of eyes upon her, almost as if they knew all about her and Eric. And maybe they did – that wasn't the important thing now, though. Still, it left her anxious, almost as though she were suffocating – again. She'd needed to get away for just a moment, just long enough to regain her strength; she just needed a moment to breathe, to think.

She'd planned to take a quick shower, hoping the hot water would wash away the sticky feeling of failure, but her body simply would not comply. She couldn't rise from the uncomfortable bench; could only think about stepping into the shower, and Calleigh was so emotionally drained that she wasn't even sure she could stand if she were to make it that far.

And it seemed so futile, anyway. A time waster. And the seconds were ticking by faster than ever – there _was_ no time that could be wasted. Every second that passed was another second that Eric was missing – in the clutches of the Russian mob, lost somewhere in the Everglades, perhaps bleeding out from a gunshot wound.

Calleigh shuddered. The evidence was stacking against the tiny glimmer of hope she'd once had. After all, even with a moving target, Calleigh knew she was a damn good shot. And upon returning to the lab, Calleigh had put a rush order on the processing of evidence from the abandoned car they'd found – though Sharova had insisted against it, some of the blood _had_ been Eric's. DNA didn't lie, no matter how much Valera had wished it would – she'd run it four times just to make sure. It was irrefutable.

Eric was out there, somewhere, with a wound that may or may not prove fatal – a wound that may or may not have been inflicted by Calleigh's own gun. His blood, her hands. The thought brought a fresh rush of guilt over her, leaving her even more unsettled and barely hanging on. All thoughts of a shower dismissed, Calleigh merely leaned forward, her head in her hands nearly at the level of her knees as she fought off the sudden wave of nausea that threatened to consume her.

When last she'd seen him, she'd had a gun on him, his hardened eyes meeting hers in an unreadable gaze. For that one moment, all time had frozen. The firefight seemed to cease, otherwise deafening shots fading into pure, untouched silence. The officers, the Russians, even Ryan who had just been in her peripheral vision all just seemed to disappear.

Calleigh.

Eric.

In that frozen moment, two souls were all that existed. Their eyes met, an unbreakable connection of heartache and betrayal that spanned the distance between them. Calleigh could think of no other moment she'd been more stunned – in the midst of the firefight, she'd frozen completely, an open target. The science of ballistics had trained her to expect anything, to react to everything in a way that would guarantee the most safety to herself and those around her. But not even the most in-depth training could've prepared her for the block of icy nausea that settled in her stomach as she found herself staring directly into the eyes of the man she cared most deeply for; the eyes of a good man who had become a fugitive.

Without warning, her heart clenched so tightly that Calleigh was left struggling for breath. She'd suppressed it as best as she could, but now as she sat alone with only her thoughts to accompany her, Calleigh couldn't deny how much it truly hurt. In the back of her mind, she chided herself for what seemed a rather selfish line of thinking, at least to her. How many times in the past had she dropped everything to run to her father when he'd needed her help?

But part of her couldn't help but feel that this was completely different. Eric had known his father for all of a few months at the most – certainly not his entire life. Did he even know if he could trust the man? How could _anybody_ know, with only that much time? Desperately Calleigh tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that struck her – Eric had known her for over seven years, and her worries, her concerns had meant _nothing_ to him. He trusted her less than a man he'd only just met.

Circumstances aside, that hurt more than she would ever be willing to admit.

Abruptly Calleigh was broken away from her silent despair by the opening of the door, the sound deafening to her tired ears. Though startled, she didn't bother to look up, simply hoping that whoever it was would leave her alone. She wasn't much in the mood for company. She wanted to be alone; she wanted nobody to see her like this, so detached from her usual picture of calm. But much to her dismay, the closing of the door did not lead once more into silence, but was merely a prelude to the sound of approaching footsteps.

Before he even spoke, Calleigh knew in an instant who it was. He'd had her back at the scene; had been the one she'd been able to trust with her life when the one she'd always trusted before had seemingly betrayed her. Though he could be a bit of a nuisance at times, his friendship was one that Calleigh had truly grown to treasure. But despite this, he still wasn't anybody that Calleigh wanted to see at the moment, and he certainly wasn't someone that she wanted inviting himself to take a seat beside of her.

But that was exactly what he did, and if he noticed the sudden stiffening of Calleigh's body beside him, he gave no indication of it. Like Calleigh, he leaned forward, though his eyes were to the side, toward Calleigh rather than toward the floor, obscured by the palms that covered them. Quietly he cleared his throat, hesitating for a moment as though all he'd meant to say had suddenly disappeared.

The moment of hesitation was all Calleigh needed. Seizing it for all it was, Calleigh spoke first, her words quiet and somewhat muffled. "Did you find anything?"

It had been merely moments since she herself had been in the lab, but Ryan wasn't surprised by the inquiry. He'd been a part of the day shift for four years; he liked to think he knew his teammates pretty well. He'd watched Eric parade through scores of women – they'd always just flocked to him, and he'd loved every second of it; at least, he had until a bullet had found its way into his brain. After that, those scores of women abruptly scattered – they _still_ flocked to him, but for about the past two years, Ryan knew that there was only one woman that Eric's eyes were seeing, and she was currently sitting on the bench next to him, her head in her hands.

He'd watched her as well – knew the brief flirtation that had existed between her and the agent from the Federal Reserve. He'd known there was history between Calleigh and Detective Hagen, but Ryan knew little beyond that. The only other relationship he'd witnessed her in was with Jake Berkeley, and while even that had seemed pretty serious, even Ryan could tell that there was something brewing at the time between Calleigh and Eric.

What he hadn't realized at the time was just how potent that something was. What they shared with each other was unlike anything they had shared separately with anyone else; that much was clear to Ryan. The possibility of Eric being dead, possibly by her own bullet, could be doing no less than absolutely ripping Calleigh's heart to shreds, and Ryan found himself completely at a loss. There was very, very little he could do when he wanted to do anything to make her smile again.

A joke like he'd casually made in the garage earlier after witnessing her argument with Eric would be utterly distasteful now, leaving Ryan with only one option – answering her question, even though he knew she already knew the answer. "Nothing new," he murmured finally, surprised at the scratchiness in his own voice. "Sharova's not talking, and Natalia's still trying to find a match on those extra prints we found on the car door, but there's nothing yet."

Before Calleigh could reply, Ryan cut her off, answering the question he knew was on her mind again. "No bullet in the car, either."

"That just means it wasn't a through-and-through," she breathed, concentrating with all she had on the steady intake of oxygen. If she fixed her mind upon that, maybe the emotions would be easier to stave off.

"Or," Ryan began, his voice a little louder than necessary – he didn't care, though. He couldn't let Calleigh think that way. "Maybe you didn't even hit him at all. Maybe the bullet you think you hit him with is in that set still waiting to be analyzed, the bullets recovered from the scene of the actual shootout."

Analysis. Processing evidence. The words hit Calleigh abruptly, leaving her with a new sense of guilt over the break she'd taken. "I – I should get to that," she replied distractedly, finally lifting her head. "I should get back to work…"

"What you _should_ do is go home," Ryan corrected softly, hesitating for only a second before laying a comforting hand at her back. "You've been here all day; as far as I know, this is the very first break you've taken. You should've been off hours ago." He paused, watching as Calleigh quickly shook her head in protest. "You should get some rest."

Shaking her head again, Calleigh lifted her hands, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I can't, Ryan," she breathed, her voice bearing more strength than she herself actually possessed at the moment – she'd _always_ been good at that. "There's too much to be done."

"And plenty of people here to do it," Ryan insisted. "Trust me; between our shift and the night shift, the lab is more than covered. I only wish this many people would show up to help if it were me missing." The quip coaxed a ghost of a smile from Calleigh's lips, and though it was only fleeting, it reassured Ryan, even if only slightly. Offering her a comforting smile of his own, Ryan gently rubbed her back in small circles, trying to console her any way he knew how. "Cal, I _know_ this is beyond difficult for you," he said softly, part of him wishing for the retort he knew wouldn't come.

Instead, she merely shrugged, her eyes staring blankly ahead. Ryan couldn't remember ever seeing Calleigh like this before; so lost, so fragile, so alone. It tugged at his own heart, and Ryan resolved right then that whatever it took, they _would_ find Eric. Calleigh couldn't lose him – she'd hidden it well earlier, but as the physical and emotional toll of the day had weighed her down, the truth had become clear to Ryan. "Go home, Cal," he reiterated, squeezing her shoulder. "You need the rest."

For a fleeting moment, there was the Calleigh Duquesne that he knew, inflexible and stubborn when it came to choosing between her own needs and a particularly draining case. "_You're_ still here," she pointed out, glancing to him for just a second, but long enough for Ryan to perceive the glint of challenge in her eyes – she was going to _dare_ him to tell her to go home.

Ryan sighed deeply, offering her shoulder another reassuring squeeze. "That's different and you know it," he said simply, choosing not to state the obvious – that her connection with Eric was far greater, far more significant. He paused, allowing the heavy silence between them to rule for just a moment. "I _know_ you want to find him, Calleigh. I want to find him too. But you're still my friend, and I have to look out for you, too. We can't lose you both."

Calleigh gave a rueful chuckle, the noise sounding foreign to her own ears. "You sound like Horatio."

Ryan allowed himself a brief smirk. "So imagine I'm him – imagine I'm threatening to remove you from the case as a whole." Calleigh gave a halfhearted glare, though in her eyes Ryan could see she was beginning to relent. "You're too close to him, Calleigh," he added, his voice hushed. "You want to find him above all else, but Calleigh, you're _not_ going to be any help to him at all if you don't get yourself some rest."

The words carried a harsh truth to Calleigh's ears; it was something she'd told families of missing persons many a time before. And every time, it had been true. "I don't know if I can sleep tonight," she admitted, leaving Ryan floored by her sudden open honesty. His mouth opened, but no words he possessed seemed worthy of following such a deep admission. A few moments passed, and with a few deep, steadying breaths, in typical Calleigh fashion she appeared to pull herself together right before his eyes, at least on the surface. He could see in her eyes that the turmoil remained. "Maybe – maybe I should get out of here for a couple of hours, at least…"

Ryan gave a reassuring smile. "Calleigh, I promise if something happens while you're gone, you'll be the first to know."

Calleigh nodded slowly. Going home was the last thing she wanted to do, and she knew there was no way she could sleep in her bed tonight, but her body cried out for rest. She couldn't stay here; she was afraid she'd lose it if she tried. No case had ever been so personal before; none had ever rocked her to the core the way this one had.

And it wasn't just because she felt the blame rested upon her own shoulders. Even if there didn't exist the possibility that she'd hit him, it was still Eric. _Her_ Eric. Again Calleigh shuddered, standing abruptly before Ryan could feel the trembling of her body. Shaking her head, she gestured lightly toward the door before busying herself with retrieving her purse from her locker. "I think I will go…"

But before she could make a move toward the door, Ryan softly called her name, stopping her in her tracks. "Calleigh."

He caught her hand, not releasing it until he too had stood, his body facing hers. For the first time, Calleigh met his eyes, finding within a similar desperation, a comparable helplessness, though his feelings came from the need to find a missing friend, a colleague – not someone he cared about so deeply that he thought his life might end without him. A quick shudder rushed through Calleigh – did she really think about Eric like that? As though without him her life might no longer be worth living?

She was saved from answering her own question as Ryan murmured her name, hesitating for only a second before pulling her into the embrace she so desperately needed, but wouldn't have asked for. His arms held her tightly, and Calleigh felt her own slowly snake around him. It wasn't the same as Eric, though, and Calleigh squeezed her eyes tightly shut, feeling the distinct sting of tears once more. She breathed in deeply, fighting them back, her exhausted body gratefully latching to the strength that Ryan offered.

Closing his own eyes, Ryan pressed a gentle kiss to her head. It was killing him to see her, his friend, like this, but he was little more than helpless – he knew the only thing he could do to help her was finding Eric. "We'll find him, Calleigh. I promise."

Calleigh nodded, shoving away the lingering voice that plagued her mind, the one that left her sickened with the dreadful words that echoed in her mind: _maybe not alive. _Ignoring it as best as she could, Calleigh gave a heavy sigh and pulled herself from Ryan's embrace, meeting his concerned eyes for only a brief second. "Thanks, Ryan," she murmured, a faint smile at her lips.

Ryan smiled, stepping to the side to allow her to pass. "You'd do the same for me," he replied, recalling similar words she'd offered him after a day that felt like a lifetime ago. With an answering nod, Calleigh quietly made her way to the door, hearing once more the quiet promise Ryan had given her.

They _would _find him. They _had_ to.

..

The night air seemed uncharacteristically cool for this time of year, but Calleigh made no effort to discern whether or not it was only in her head. The brisk breeze from the sea left goosebumps along her bare arms as she swiftly made her way to her car, the need to escape overtaking her in an abrupt rush of emotion. She needed to get out of there, even if her only avenue of escape would take her home, to sheets and blankets and pillows saturated with the scent of _him._ The thought sent another shiver racing through her body, but Calleigh wasted no energy in trying to fight it. She knew deep down that there was nothing that would chase away the ghostly chill within her – nothing but the warmth of Eric's arms. Knowing he was safe and sound, hearing his voice and feeling his arms wrap around her…that was what it would take to warm her again.

Her mind lost in a daze, Calleigh slowly opened the door to her car and slipped inside, her actions on autopilot as she closed the door and lightly tossed her bag in the passenger seat. Closing her eyes for a moment, she simply breathed. In and out, in and out; the steady motion offered her a bit of reassurance, if only for the lingering scent of Eric's cologne that it brought to her.

Yawning despite herself, Calleigh tucked her hair behind her ears and reached once more for her keys, feeling somewhat torn. She'd told Ryan she would go home, but leaving right now felt like her very own betrayal; it felt almost as though she were giving up. That was exactly the kind of thinking she couldn't let herself fall victim to, and with a deep sigh, she reached for her seat belt and quickly pulled it across, locking it into place.

The feelings she'd experienced through the entire day, both emotional and physical, had washed over her in an indecipherable fog. There was just way too much she couldn't begin to process, and definitely not in her current state of physical and emotional fatigue.

Her emotions might've been all over the place. Her physical responses – the chills, the trembling, the nausea – were far beyond the realm of her understanding as well.

But though there was so little that her troubled mind could process, there was no mistaking the sudden sensation of cool metal at her temple. Thousands of warnings from safety pamphlets and other women and even old safety guidelines posted up around her dorm way back in college suddenly came back to her; suggestions she had never really thought twice about suddenly flooded her mind, haunting her, taunting her for never really bothering to check her backseat upon getting in the car.

Her heart skipped a beat, though Calleigh fought desperately to remain calm – it wasn't the first time she'd had a gun to her head, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. She heard the rustling in the seat behind her, felt his breath against her cheek as he spoke, and her heart dropped to the level of her stomach as his thick, roughened Russian accent washed over her. "Hands on the wheel, right now. No sudden moves; got it?" Calleigh stared straight ahead, hesitating out of defiance.

He gave a low growl, roughly shoving the gun against her temple. "I have _no_ reason to kill you, but I swear to God if you try anything, it will be the _last_ thing you ever try." Without speaking, Calleigh obeyed with lightly trembling hands, gripping the wheel with a white-knuckled grasp. "Good girl," he purred, and Calleigh shuddered, feeling his free hand paw its way around the seat to her waist. Unclipping her cell from her belt, and satisfied that she had nothing else on her, he unceremoniously snatched her purse. Calleigh bit hard at her lip, knowing that her gun and her handcuffs were contained within, but attempting to calm herself with the realization that she had very little cash on hand, and that most of her cards could be cancelled with very little effort. The bright side was dim, but the moment Calleigh lost sight of that completely was the moment she lost all hope – for her own life, _and_ for Eric's.

Unfortunately, if this man was Russian mob, and Calleigh was almost certain that he was, it wasn't her money that he was after. Training her ears, Calleigh heard the quiet click of her wallet opening, followed by the telltale rustling of the contents within. Lifting her eyes to the rearview mirror, she watched surreptitiously as the man bypassed all of the money and her credit cards; instead his fingers reached directly for her driver's license, removing it along with the photo behind it.

It was a photograph taken not too long ago, a candid photo of a moment before she and Eric were together. Taken by Alexx, she'd managed to capture something that Calleigh suspected the other woman had always known to be there. It was a moment frozen in time, one that Calleigh treasured enough to carry everywhere, and to see it in the hands of a man who wished nothing good upon her or Eric made her blood run cold. Gathering the strength she had left, Calleigh steeled her voice, her words icy as they left her lips. "Look, you can have whatever you want, okay? I won't fight – you can take whatever you want and go."

The man grinned triumphantly, placing the photograph back into her wallet before lifting his eyes to the rearview mirror. He met Calleigh's gaze, his grin widening as she stared unwaveringly back. "Anything I want, huh?" he breathed, leaning forward once more, his face mere millimeters from her cheek. Calleigh swallowed, her hands still clutching the wheel. It was becoming ever clear that he wasn't going to simply take what he wanted and go, like she'd suggested. She could feel his eyes raking over her, and for the first time, Calleigh felt her control waver.

She'd lived this once before – she _knew_ what was going to happen. Though she tried to fight the memories back, she lacked the strength necessary – suddenly, she felt as though she were reliving her kidnapping from over a year ago. Those were memories she'd forced away, unwilling to linger on them, and after that night that Eric had stayed with her, she'd never spoken of it again – she just couldn't. She'd refused to deal with the aftermath.

And now, those memories would not be suppressed. Her heart pounded against her chest, and it was all Calleigh could do to keep her breathing steady. Every instinct told her to open the car door and run, to not by any means let herself end up in that same situation again – she'd been lucky once, but how lucky could she possibly be a second time?

With a smirk, her Russian captor slipped his hand slowly down to her lap, retrieving the keys she'd dropped in shock just moments before. "Whatever I want…" he repeated, and Calleigh felt her stomach turn at the feel of his breath against her skin. Reaching forward, he held her keys out until Calleigh brought a trembling hand away from the wheel to grasp them. She swallowed hard, doing all she could to attempt to regain her control, even as she heard his next words in her head before he'd actually spoken them aloud.

"I want you to drive."


	2. two

_**Thank you so much to everyone who left such encouraging reviews - I truly appreciate every single one! Like I said, I was more than a little apprehensive about posting this, given the combination of Calleigh and this particular subject, but all of your kind words have made this feel so much less daunting. So thanks again, and I hope you all continue to enjoy! :)**_

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**/2/**

_The motion was all but excruciating, but somehow Calleigh managed to pry her eyes open, fighting against the pounding ache in her head. Her vision was blurry; images did little more than swirl together, creating a mix of colors and light that left Calleigh's stomach churning with nausea. The urge was there, to simply close her eyes and fall back into the dazed emptiness from which she'd just awoken, but somewhere deep beyond the fuzzy thoughts at the front of her mind, Calleigh knew that wasn't an option. _

_She felt almost as though she were floating – an absurdity, given that her limbs felt so heavy that she could barely move them. Or maybe that was because of something else. Experimentally she tried moving her arms, but it was of no use – her hands were tightly bound behind her back. And that was enough to have the sinking sensation of fear settling into her stomach, its bitter taste burning at the back of her throat. _

_Her eyes flitted restlessly around the darkened room, but she was unable to focus on much of anything. She couldn't tell where she was; couldn't remember how she had gotten there. Wracking her aching brain, Calleigh struggled to find her last memory, though all that came to her was a fuzzy recollection of herself stepping out of her Hummer. But why? Had she been at a scene? Had she had any backup, or had she been alone? _

_She couldn't remember any of it. Her normally pristine memory was tarnished, and Calleigh couldn't suppress the feeling of helplessness that rose up within her. Hands bound and mouth covered tightly, and with no memory of where she was or how she had gotten there – it was difficult to ignore the blinding fact that she had very little control, if any at all._

_And she wasn't given enough time to think of a way to regain that control. Calleigh had barely had time to clear even a little of the fog from her mind when a door to the far side of the room came open, the slight creak followed by an almost painfully loud slam echoing through the warehouse. Calleigh blinked slowly, using the sudden burst of light to her advantage as she furtively allowed her eyes to canvass her surroundings, feeling just the slightest twinge of relief as her vision slowly began to clear. Whatever she'd been drugged with – chloroform, if she was remembering her recent cases correctly – was finally beginning to wear completely off, but Calleigh still felt lost in a deep haze. _

_Her eyes widened slightly as she realized she hadn't been completely alone after all – merely a few feet away lay a body, but Calleigh paid only a sliver of attention to that as she was approached by two men, their footsteps echoing loudly in her ears. Her thoughts were racing as quickly as the pounding of her heart – if the willingness of these two men to let her see their faces was any indication, she was going to make it out of this warehouse in the same shape as the body on the ground. _

_But before she could linger any longer on that, her eyes caught the glimmer of metal in the first man's hands – unmistakably a gun. His eyes glinted evilly as he leisurely took a seat, knowing she'd seen it. The second man remained standing, waiting for the order that would quickly come. When it did, the voice was nothing but cold, laced with malicious intent, and Calleigh couldn't help but stiffen as his accomplice – Tommy, as she would later learn - approached her quickly, no intention of ignoring Seth's harsh command. "Pick her up."_

_Tommy's grasp was rough – yet oddly hesitant – as he tightly gripped her arm, jerkily pulling her body upward as he tugged the gag from her mouth with his free hand. The motion was abrupt, and though Calleigh had known it was coming, she still couldn't fight the sudden burst of nausea that washed over her at the quick, forced change of position._

_For the briefest moment, her shielded eyes locked with Seth's hungry ones, sending the blood draining from Calleigh's face. Between the look in his eyes and the gun in his hand, there was no denying the fear that washed over Calleigh, even though years of hiding her emotions made it easier to keep her face passive, her eyes cold. She couldn't control her heartbeat, though, and it was pounding against her ribcage as the realizations flashed through her mind._

_They were going to kill her. _

_But before that, they were going to make her wish she were dead._

_Swallowing hard, Calleigh lowered her eyes to the ground below, fighting the urge to struggle against Tommy's grasp. "What do you want from me?" she asked coldly, the words leaving her lips only when she was certain there would be no accompanying tremor. _

_The answer came quickly, as did the icy block of dread that plummeted straight to her stomach. His words were calm, almost as though rehearsed, and suddenly Calleigh knew that they both had this entire encounter planned out – from the details of her abduction, all the way to the last breath she would ever take._

_"We wanna solve a crime with Calleigh."_

_..  
_

"Turn down this street, right here."

Ever mindful of the gun at her temple, Calleigh did little more than what her captor expressly told her to do. Her mind was reeling, shuffling rapidly through flashback after flashback, the images which had haunted her sleep for weeks after her abduction. She'd thought she'd finally managed to leave those memories behind, but as her captor's directions took her through the brightly lit streets of Miami and over the darkened strip of the causeway illuminated only by streetlights, she couldn't stop the rush of recollection which raced over her memory with the same speed as the car that carried her. She hadn't dealt with the aftermath at all; she'd simply buried it away, hoping and praying that one day it would finally dissolve into little more than wispy shadows in the back of her mind.

For weeks after the abduction, Calleigh had sacrificed countless hours of sleep, secretly terrified of the images she might see upon closing her eyes. More often than not, after sheer exhaustion had forced her into a restless state of sleep, Calleigh had awoken in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat, her trembling body clammy, her heart racing so quickly that she feared it might give out on her. But by morning's first light, she'd always been able to talk herself down. As the sun would rise in the eastern sky, Calleigh had been able to banish the nightmares to the deepest, most secure crevasse of her mind, hiding them away until the next night when once more they would be unlocked by the keys her subconscious possessed.

She'd had a job to do. She'd had the daily stresses of her own life to deal with. At the time, she'd had Jake's whereabouts to worry about; she'd had her ever-strengthening feelings for Eric to focus on reining in. There had simply been no time to devote to the flashbacks and the memories, and if Calleigh were completely honest with herself, that was something she was grateful for. She wasn't Eric – she wasn't the kind of person who sat down in front of a complete stranger, doctor of psychology or not, and divulged her deepest secrets, her greatest fears.

She wasn't the kind of person who let those secrets and fears be voiced at all. Calleigh had her own way of working through issues – her strategy was locking them away and forgetting about them. And with time, she had _always_ been able to forget and move on. But yet, here she was more than a year after her abduction, and the visions plaguing her mind were as clear as they'd been that very first night – the only difference was that instead of having the comfort of Eric's arms to turn to, all she had was the fear that she'd put a bullet into Eric's shoulder – or worse, perhaps his chest – gnawing angrily at her stomach.

The memories had taken such a firm hold upon her mind that it was almost impossible to separate the past from the present, the visions from reality. Her captor's few words swam through her head, sometimes in Seth McAdam's voice; sometimes in her captor's voice but coming from the vision of Seth in her mind.

And if anything, it was the inability to separate the two that frightened her most of all. If she couldn't control her own mind, how could she possibly find any control over the situation she found herself in? Her hands gripped the wheel with a white-knuckled grasp; her heart pounded frantically against her ribcage, and the heated flush of anxiety covered her skin. If not for the blessed ability to steady her breathing, Calleigh was certain that one quick motion, one sudden jerk of the gun at her temple would be enough to send her over the edge.

Almost as if on cue, there was a quiet buzzing from the backseat, though Calleigh was able to hold her reaction to little more than a flinch – her physical composure, it seemed, was much more easily held than her cracking emotional resolve. That gave her a bit of hope; if she didn't crack physically, it would be harder to detect her emotional distress, and therefore harder for her captor to use it to his advantage. It was a small comfort, given where she currently found herself, but at the moment, it was all she had.

Behind her, the Russian shuffled about, one-handedly retrieving his vibrating phone. Glancing at the display, he gave a quiet chuckle before leaning forward once more. "Keep driving," he breathed, and Calleigh couldn't help but sigh imperceptibly in relief as the feel of cool metal disappeared finally from her skin. "Nothing funny, you got that? Drive straight through the next light, then turn right at the stop sign. Then just keep going until I tell you otherwise." With that, he sat back rather leisurely, answering his phone in a tone Calleigh might describe as perfectly conversational – that is, if she'd had a clue what he was saying as he lapsed into Russian.

But before he'd drifted into that breathless string of Russian words, Calleigh's ears had picked up on one detail. She wasn't sure how much it would help her, but even so, she locked it away within her mind for safekeeping. Vadim, he had said, and Calleigh had immediately recognized it as a name from one of the many leads that she and Ryan had chased just earlier that afternoon. But that was all her tired, frantic mind could recall – just the name itself, nothing else about it.

All she knew was that there was something about the name that drove shivers down the length of her spine.

Easing her foot onto the brake, Calleigh came to a slow halt at the stop sign, having passed through the previous traffic light with no difficulty. The forced steadiness of her breathing was finally paying off; as the moments ticked by, Calleigh could feel herself calm just the slightest bit. Her eyes traveled discreetly around as she drove, making the right turn that Vadim had instructed of her. If there was one constant that could always offer Calleigh that extra sense of control, it was the recognition of familiarity, and as Calleigh's eyes scanned the area, she realized immediately where they were. Another turn would put them on Ocean Drive, which, along with the rest of South Beach, Calleigh had driven through numerous times before. She knew the area like the back of her hand, and while it relieved her that he hadn't taken her somewhere where she'd be completely out of her element, it also left her feeling ridiculously helpless. She knew where she was, but that was little help to her in the long run if she had no possible way of getting a message to the rest of the team.

Even knowing this, her mind still secretly catalogued the little details – landmarks they had passed, mile markers, street names, hotel names…anything that might serve as a clue in the near future. Even without her phone, she'd been able to get discreet messages to the team before – she could only hope that this time would be the same.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch, though, as the dark disparities between the two abductions were made suddenly clear to her mind. The first time, she had been sent on a call-out to a scene, phony though it might have been - it was still a scene, and there had been a log of her actions. This time, Ryan had sent her home to get some rest. It would be several dark hours before anyone realized that something wasn't quite right, especially since she currently had no one at home to notice that she never arrived.

Her thoughts once more drifted to Eric. Once more she saw his eyes; once more she heard the vindication in his argument – he was set on doing the right thing, and very little was going to stop him from that. And now, because of his unwavering trust, he was missing. Possibly dead – because of her. Her heart ached for him, but before Calleigh had the chance to linger on the pain any longer, Vadim had leaned forward again, breathing his quiet instructions into her ear.

"We're almost there," he murmured, the quiet glee in his voice sending a shiver through Calleigh's body. "Next hotel on the right. I want you…" He paused, grinning slightly, "to pull into the parking garage. Stop in front of the elevator on the first floor. Put the car into park right there, and blink your lights twice." Making sure her purse was emptied of all but her wallet, he slipped it slowly back into the front passenger seat. Her gun and her handcuffs were safely tucked into his own small briefcase, far out of reach of the blonde in the driver's seat. Following the plan at hand, Vadim tucked Calleigh's cell phone into the pocket on the back of her seat.

Just as he'd instructed, the car came to a slow stop inside the garage. Calleigh hesitated for only a moment before blinking the lights, her mind frantically scanning during that one fleeting moment for any way out. For now, though, she had nothing. Hands off the wheel, Calleigh clenched her fists in her lap to fight off the trembling. "What do you want with me?" she asked coldly after a few agonizing seconds of silence had passed. Each and every breath that entered and left her body was governed by steady, disciplined commands within her mind. _Breathe in, hold, breathe out._ It was the only way she could keep her breathing steady – the only way she could hold her composure when the rest of her body was threatening to betray her.

Vadim chuckled. Such a loaded question she had asked; the answers were quite endless. "You'll find out soon enough," he breathed after a moment, drawing a knuckle slowly along her cheek. "But don't you worry your pretty little head about it – I have _no_ intentions of killing such a beautiful creature…"

Calleigh swallowed hard, feeling a distinct chill as her blood seemed to turn to ice, right in her veins. "Some – some things are worse than death, though," she bit out, her voice steady despite the fear that coursed through her. Of course some things were worse than death; they were such things as she'd escaped from once. And now, it seemed she was right back in the clutches of such things, unable to escape. She couldn't be that lucky twice, after all.

"Worse than death?" he simpered, letting his touch drift lightly into the softness of Calleigh's blonde locks. When he spoke again, Calleigh felt his breath against her skin, a sensation that grew more and more sickening each and every time she felt it. "Hardly. How can something that I promise you'll enjoy _every_ second of _possibly_ be worse than death?"

Calleigh closed her eyes, biting hard at the inside of her cheek. "I'm sure your idea of _enjoyment_ differs greatly from mine."

The amused chuckle that issued from behind her left goosebumps rising along Calleigh's bare arms. "You've got an attitude. I like that," he smirked, tracing a thumb over her lips. "Sometimes, that is…"

Jerking her head to the side, Calleigh effectively shook his touch away. "Don't touch me," she growled, finding her edge once more within a burst of anger.

"That's okay – I'll touch later," he breathed, overly amused at how easy it was proving to rile the pretty blonde in the front seat. Before she could reply, Vadim quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, his eyes catching a sudden flash of motion from within the shadows. "Here we go," he muttered, completely dropping the would-be playful tone he'd adopted through the previous conversation. The motion continued, and Calleigh's heart skipped a beat as her eyes too caught it. Suddenly, the possibilities were spiraling through her mind just as quickly as the flashbacks had – was she merely a pawn in some greater scheme by the Russian mob? A bargaining chip? Was she to be surrendered as an exchange for something else – drugs, weapons, both? If Vadim had no intention of killing her, what about the shadowy figure whose footsteps were bringing him close to the car?

Did they have Eric?

Was capturing her their way of getting something out of Eric, something he'd been unwilling to give up? Which would he choose in that situation, the safety of some very sensitive information, or the safety of the woman with whom he dreamed of settling down and starting a family?

Calleigh gave an intense shudder. That might not even be the case at all – there was always a chance that Eric would never have to make that choice. There was always a chance that instead he was already dead, that Calleigh had killed him herself – the thought suddenly left her glad for the hand that covered her mouth; otherwise, she was certain the nausea would not have been fought back.

Outside, the dark figure continued its approach. "You stay right here," Vadim muttered quickly. "Don't touch anything. Don't try anything stupid – I'll know if you do. You just sit here quietly and wait like a good girl." He waited for Calleigh's nod – forced by him though it was – before removing his hand from over her mouth. Without another word, he swiftly stepped out of the car, greeting the dark figure in Russian.

There was nothing that irritated Calleigh more than being left out of the loop – she liked to know what was going on at all times. It was a knowledge that truly gave her power, and without that knowledge, she was little more than helpless. English was her first language, but she was fluent in Spanish and possessed a vast understanding of French, but in her life she had only very rarely encountered Russian. The only times she'd ever heard it in any abundance were quite recently – throughout the cases that involved the Russian mob, and during a few more…more _personal_ moments.

Her cheeks tinted lightly. In those moments, the breathy, whispered Russian words didn't leave her frightened and lost in confusion. It was one of her few weaknesses that Eric had discovered rather quickly, and as Calleigh closed her eyes, she could almost hear his voice lapsing into Russian as he lavished her flushed skin with slow, shivery kisses, leaving her trembling and whimpering beneath his sweet, teasing torment.

He'd always been so attentive with her, so sweet, so wonderful. Calleigh had never been with anyone quite like him before; he was truly one of a kind. The very thought that she might never see him again, that he might never leave her feeling so completely _happy_ – even _loved_ – ever again was enough to bring the sting of tears back to her eyes. Resolutely though she blinked them away, steadying herself once more with a few deep breaths.

Lost in her thoughts, Calleigh gave a startled jump as her door was suddenly wrenched open. She drew in a sharp breath as Vadim reached across her, deftly unsnapping her seatbelt. "Time to go, princess," he muttered, grasping her upper arms with a grip rough enough to potentially bruise. Forcefully he pulled her from the car, clasping his hand over her mouth at her yelp of surprise. "Keep your mouth shut," he growled, his dark eyes boring into hers as he set her unsteadily on her feet, holding her tight against his side. "Remember, I have your gun as well as mine." Lifting his eyes to his accomplice – Nikolai, if Calleigh had heard correctly – Vadim extended his free hand. "Key, please."

Nikolai gave a slow smile, his dark eyes raking unhurriedly over Calleigh's body. "I know we had an agreement, but we can always change the terms, no?" His gaze flickered to Vadim before locking coldly with Calleigh's emerald eyes. "I'll still give you the room key, but…maybe I want _her_ instead of the car…" Stepping forward, Nikolai had the audacity to reach out, drawing a cold knuckle over Calleigh's cheek. "I sure wouldn't mind me a piece of that…"

"Back off, Nikolai," Vadim growled, shoving the other man's hands away. "We had a deal. And a plan that we have to follow." He grinned. "Besides, she's mine," he added, rather possessively.

Nikolai shrugged, then turned his eyes to the car. "I suppose this isn't too bad of a parting gift, then," he murmured, drawing his palm over the roof of the car. "Very nice ride…"

Vadim gave a deep sigh – his patience was quickly running low. "Key, _please_," he repeated, the warning in his tone unmistakable. "And while you're at it, get her bag for me."

Rolling his eyes, Nikolai quickly produced a key card from his pocket. "Room 1224. Damn nice suite. You should find it quite acceptable," he said, slipping into the driver's seat of Calleigh's car. "Maybe even as nice as this car," he added, leisurely tossing Calleigh's purse to the pavement.

Lightly, Vadim jabbed his elbow into Calleigh's side. "Pick it up and put it on your shoulder. Nothing else," he murmured, his eyes scanning the area for anyone who might've been watching the entire exchange. As Calleigh slowly bent to retrieve her purse, Vadim turned to Nikolai with a grin. "She's all yours," he said, patting the roof of the car. "Have fun, but remember the plan."

Nikolai flashed his eyes to Calleigh once more. "Somehow, when it comes to remembering the plan, I don't think I'm the one we need to worry about," he retorted, a knowing flicker in his dark eyes as he quickly closed the door. Turning the key in the ignition, the engine quickly came to life, and Calleigh was unable to do any more than watch as her car was carefully backed out of the garage. The lights blinked once, and then with a squeal of the tires, her car was gone, speeding along the street outside.

"Sorry about that," Vadim sneered without an ounce of remorse in his voice. Pulling Calleigh closer to him, he ignored the way her body stiffened. "Can't have your car parked in the garage here – they would track you down in no time. Besides, you would've just had it taken away anyway – it would've been towed for not having a parking permit."

Anxiously, Calleigh bit at her lip. Eric had mentioned it, and Horatio had warned the entire team – the Russians were smart. They were capable of thinking of almost anything; thinking about it, and working their plans around it. Calleigh had been counting on having her car towed – security would canvass the parking garage, searching for cars without displayed permits, and upon finding hers, they would take down the license number and call the towing company. By that time, Calleigh had assumed that her car might've been flagged, and regardless of whether the car was towed or not, there would be a record of where her car had been. But it seemed that Vadim had thought of that long before she had, and now her slim hope was quickly degenerating once again.

Her cell remained in the car too, so tracking her by GPS would lead someone on a wild goose chase. She was still _so_ close to the lab, still well within the boundaries of Dade County. But by the time anyone realized that she was missing and thought to search for her phone or her car, there was a fair possibility that both might be well out of the state. Calleigh was just going to have to figure out something else.

"We're going inside now," Vadim interrupted her thoughts, his lips brushing against Calleigh's temple in a slow stroke that left her skin crawling. "And you are going to keep your head down and your mouth shut. One word, and it'll be your last – and believe me, you're not the only one who doesn't want that," he added, his thick accent adopting a would-be seductive tone. But to Calleigh, it did nothing but churn her stomach, leaving her able to do little more than nod in response. "Hands in your pockets, sweetheart," he purred, leading her quickly through the doorway. "Can't have you leaving your pretty little prints for your _boyfriend_ to find, now can we, hmm?"

It was the first verbal acknowledgment that Vadim truly knew who she was, and as he rather gently led her into the elevator, Calleigh shuddered, realizing what this entire operation was really about. The enhanced disdain in his voice had given it away immediately – this _was _about Eric. Eric had gotten himself involved in the business of the Russian mob – something Calleigh wasn't entirely sure of, but she'd had her suspicions. He'd meddled, and now he was missing.

But that was what left Calleigh confused. Was he missing because the Russians had him? Or was he missing because he had escaped? And where did Calleigh fit in the grand scheme? It left her head aching even more than it already was, and Calleigh shook her head in an effort to clear it, knowing she didn't know nearly enough to lead her anywhere other than a scrambled web of possibilities, each just as reasonable as the next.

It was the jumble of possibilities which plagued her until Vadim was leading her into the secured hotel room. As soon as the door was closed behind them, he immediately dropped the saccharine, false gentlemanly act he'd adopted in the lobby and in the hallway to avoid attracting any attention at all. Grasping her upper arm once more, he ignored Calleigh's whimpered protest of pain as he tugged her through the darkened room. "The games are over," he growled, ripping her purse from her shoulder and tossing it blindly to the side. Spinning her to face him, Vadim shoved Calleigh onto the bed, satisfied at the muffled yelp of surprise she gave as her body hit the mattress.

This was it. Her body tensed immediately as she realized what was coming next. Every hypothetical situation that she'd sworn never to find herself in – and then never to find herself in _again_ – was now a reality. All of her assertions that she'd be much too strong for this, they all meant nothing now. Here in this darkened hotel room, while no one even knew she was missing, Calleigh was going to become one in a long line of victims which she'd sworn never to become.

The realization was enough to shatter her physical control. Suddenly she was unable to breathe; unable to transport the necessary oxygen to her brain. The calculated, well-thought breaths she'd relied on until now abruptly failed her, leaving her without anything to grasp hold of. Her heart pounded madly; she felt the sweat break upon her forehead. Her body trembled uncontrollably as the darkness spiraled around her, the shadows in the darkened room flitting around like the monsters she'd stopped believing in at the age of four.

Vaguely she felt the dip of the mattress beneath Vadim's added weight; felt him hovering above her, felt his breath against her cheek. Calleigh closed her eyes, biting hard at the inside of her cheek in trepidation, knowing what was to come.

Roughly he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, wordlessly tugging her arm toward the head of the bed. Almost as though the sound were echoing over a long distance, Calleigh heard the light jingle of metal, a sound that was despairingly recognizable to her ears. In seconds she felt the accompanying coldness clamp around her wrist – he had her handcuffs, and though she couldn't see in the dark, Calleigh had a very good idea as to what the other link of the cuffs was being attached to. She swallowed hard, forcing back the bitter taste of vulnerability – he was rendering any defense she might have useless.

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut again, Calleigh waited, knowing there was very little she could do, especially if she wanted to live. A moment passed, then another, then yet another, and nothing happened. Nothing.

And then, as light as a feather, she felt his fingertips softly caressing her cheek, lightly tracing her jawline. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, though she still could see nothing. She could hear, though, and the sound of the bed creaking as Vadim rose from it seemed almost deafeningly loud, almost as loud as the confused static that commenced in her head. What was he playing at?

Almost as if hearing her thoughts, Vadim snickered. "Don't you worry, _Calleigh_," he murmured, verbalizing her name for the very first time, unaware of the shudder that coursed through her body as she heard it. "We'll have plenty of time for some fun later; believe me, I can't _wait_ for that." He grinned, though knowing that Calleigh wouldn't see it. Leaning over her, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, only smirking as Calleigh turned her face defiantly away from him. "For now, though, I have to go – but I'll be back before you know it." Reaching out, he lightly rattled the handcuffs with his fingers. "Don't go anywhere, princess."

Laughing at his own joke, Vadim swiftly turned and crossed the room. As he opened the door, a faint sliver of light from the hallway filled the room, momentarily chasing back the shadows before once more they were allowed to take hold as the door closed once more with a slam of finality. Suddenly, the light was gone, Vadim was gone, and Calleigh was left behind. Confused, frightened, helplessly cuffed to the bed, and so completely alone.

Alone in the dark, with only her dreaded memories and the fear of what was to come to keep her company.

And that was worse than the nightmares she'd refused to deal with over a year ago.


	3. three

**/3/**

Calleigh's head was _pounding._

Beyond that, there was little that she could comprehend in her dazed state of not quite wakefulness, but nowhere near the realm of sleep either. With every beat of her heart, the agony in her head throbbed with a predictable rhythm, pounding with a vengeance from the deepest recesses of her brain outward. It was excruciating, and with a soft groan, Calleigh slowly attempted to roll onto her stomach, hoping to bury her face within her pillow. Maybe that would help.

But she was hindered by a strange force tugging at her right arm. And it was only then that she fully remembered where she was, what had happened the night before, the day before. She wasn't at home in her bed; Eric wasn't laying beside of her where he belonged. Instead, she was stuck in a hotel room in South Beach, restrained by the arm with her own handcuffs. And how she had gotten there…Calleigh shoved the memories away with a shudder, opting to roll onto her back once more. Slowly she blinked her eyes open, wincing slightly in the morning light.

The curtains were still drawn, letting only the most diffuse amount of sunlight to filter through – small favor, that. The light that _did_ reach her eyes caused her enough pain; any more, and Calleigh feared she might find herself nauseated again. As it was, her stomach gave a frightening little lurch at every tiny sound that reached her ears, partly for the pain it brought to her head, but mostly for the fear that it might be Vadim, back from wherever he had disappeared to the night before.

To her immense disdain, that was exactly what she was feeling – fear. And it felt so unbelievably _wrong_. Calleigh Duquesne feared _nothing. _Nothing rattled her; nothing was _ever_ allowed to throw her out of her element. And yet, that was what had happened. Calleigh was more than rattled, more than fearful. How she had ever drifted into any state of sleep was beyond her, but sure enough, her exhaustion had overpowered her after several long, dark hours. It had been fitful, though, plagued with the dreams she had feared returning. Her muscles ached from the inevitable tossing and turning, limited though her movement had been.

The images of one such frightening dream were still incredibly vivid to her, and Calleigh closed her eyes, not even bothering to fight back the shudder it brought forth in her. She could still see him so clearly, lying motionless on the muddy ground. His features were caked with mud and grime, but there was no question about it – he was still indisputably Eric. _Her _Eric. Calleigh felt her stomach churn suddenly; she could still smell the telltale metallic scent of blood in the area, blood undoubtedly oozing from the gaping wound in his chest – the wound that she herself had inflicted.

She had killed him.

Shuddering again, Calleigh forced the gruesome images from her mind – she couldn't allow herself to think like that. Those thoughts, while harmful enough in her mind, would only exacerbate the situation she currently found herself in. Letting out a shaky breath, she forced her eyes open, blinking back the sting of unshed tears. Weakness would prove to be just that – a weakness, and the moment she allowed her captor to witness that would be the moment she lost all hope.

He hadn't returned from his departure, and as Calleigh pulled herself slowly to a sitting position, she took her first good look around the room in which he had left her the night before. There was nothing out of the ordinary – it was just a hotel room, like any other she'd been in. There was nothing explicitly special about it, but it was certainly nice – much nicer than the decrepit, rundown excuse for a motel that Eric had forced himself to stay in when this had all begun.

The walls were painted in a simple white, decorated only by a framed portrait of the ocean centered above the single king-sized bed. Deep royal blue drapes, their color matching that of the soft bedspread atop which she lay, shielded the sunlight in front of what Calleigh assumed would be a sliding glass door to the balcony. A glass table with two chairs filled much of the other half of the room, the centerpiece a clear vase filled with colorful seashells. Nothing out of the ordinary. Calleigh sighed, allowing her eyes to canvass the rest of the room with its typical hotel décor – an armchair in the corner, a fair-sized television across from the bed, an alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed, a small desk with a lamp against the far wall.

But the one thing missing, Calleigh realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, was a telephone. Her captor had truly left her without a way to call for help, even if she hadn't been restrained. The room also contained no paper, nothing to write with, nothing at all that she could use to signal the outside world. She was shut off from everyone, and Calleigh shuddered, realizing there was no reason to believe that would change.

The Russians were smart – Calleigh _knew_ that. But each and every time, the realization of just how smart they really were left Calleigh sickened.

Her stomach gave a frightening jolt as her ears picked up on the clear sound of a keycard sliding through the lock on the door. But the warning prepared her not for the way her body jumped as the door was all but wrenched violently open, then slammed hastily closed with a crash that left Calleigh's ears ringing and her head throbbing all that much more. Summoning her coldest stare, she met the gaze of her captor head-on, despite the fact that the famous Duquesne glare had no effect on him – it certainly didn't set him aquiver with cowardice.

Instead, Vadim merely smiled.

He was _amused_.

And that infuriating amusement was all too clear in his voice as he offered up what might've been a greeting, had the situation been different. "Sleep well, princess?" he cooed, stepping to the middle of the room. Calleigh's eyes drifted momentarily to the plastic bag in his hand, though she didn't allow her mind to ponder just what might be inside. "Glad to see that you're awake now; I thought about waking you when I came in earlier, but then I thought you might need the rest after the day you had yesterday."

Calleigh stiffened as he took a step closer, feeling her the acid in her stomach churn at the way his eyes suddenly raked over her body, resisting the urge to pull her knees in closer to her chest. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he unnerved her. "What?" she asked coldly, narrowing her eyes when he made no effort to divert his gaze.

He grinned again. "Nothing, nothing at all," he simpered, setting the plastic bag on the table. "I was just thinking how the darkness did you _no_ justice last night." Pausing, Vadim licked his lips in a way that left Calleigh's skin crawling. "Sexy little thing…"

With that, Calleigh couldn't fight it. Bending her knees, she brought her legs protectively closer to her body. Defiantly she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. She could feel his eyes on her as he crossed the room, and Calleigh winced in pain as the dark drapes were drawn open, allowing the bright morning sunlight to shine through. The view outside was extravagant; the balcony gave the greatest possible view of the Atlantic. Under another circumstance, the way the rays beamed off of the cerulean waves, making them shimmer like gems in the sunlight might've taken Calleigh's breath away, but as it was, the light was like a knife to her already throbbing head. It was too much, and Calleigh lowered her head, closing her eyes as Vadim once more crossed the room, commenting under his breath about the lovely view.

She heard the rustling of the plastic bag on the table, but Calleigh made no effort to look up until once again she felt the bed dip beneath Vadim's added weight. The contents of the bag were finally made known to her, and Calleigh bit her lip, trying desperately not to let her eyes linger on the platter he'd set between them. It contained a simple breakfast – two halves of a bagel, a small container of cream cheese, a few slices of bacon, a large blueberry muffin, and green grapes, still on the stem. Her eyes must've given her away, as Vadim's next words left her silently cursing herself. "You must be _starving._"

He tilted his head, gazing thoughtfully at the blonde just feet away from him. "In fact, I'd wager it's been a good twenty-four hours, maybe more since you've eaten anything at all, hmm? You were probably so caught up in the search for your boyfriend that nothing else mattered."

Again Vadim was frightening her with just how much knowledge he seemed to have about her. He was right, though she would never admit it. Ruefully, Calleigh thought back to her last meal, the quick breakfast she and Eric had shared on the way to work the day before. Muffins and coffee that they'd had to order to-go, due to a much more delectable awakening that had left them running more than just a little bit late.

The dizziness from the lack of nutrition had already been affecting her by early evening, but by then, she couldn't allow herself to eat. Every second that she wasted not searching for Eric was another second that he could be losing blood, slowly drifting from life. Since the last bite of her muffin, all she'd had in the past day had been the coffee necessary to keep her awake and alert. And now, despite her current predicament, with a plain yet enticing breakfast before her, Calleigh couldn't deny the hunger pangs.

She watched helplessly as Vadim opened the container of cream cheese and quickly slathered a generous helping onto half of a bagel with a plastic knife. "I – I'm not hungry," she insisted quietly, forcing her eyes away. It was a falsity, but there was no way she could be sure that it wasn't a trick. There was nothing Vadim could do that would ever make her trust him or anything he offered her.

Once more, Vadim merely chuckled, and Calleigh was left wondering what it would take to really anger him – she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. "Don't lie to me, princess," he purred, and Calleigh bit at the inside of her cheek, quickly growing tired of the supposed endearment. He held the bagel close to her, and despite herself, Calleigh felt her stomach rumble hungrily.

Squirming slightly to muffle the sound, Calleigh shook her head. "I'm not."

"_Calleigh_." At the tone in his voice, Calleigh couldn't help but glance to him, unable to suppress a shiver at the intensity in his dark eyes. "Now you and I both know that isn't true at all." Calleigh didn't reply, and Vadim grinned widely. "I get it," he murmured slowly, reaching out with his free hand. Calleigh stiffened, feeling his touch as he brushed a lock of blonde from her face. "Silly girl. You think it's poisoned."

Calleigh remained silent, knowing that was part of it. She'd been a CSI for years; she'd seen countless women who'd become victims because they'd been drugged; because said drug had been in the food or drink offered by the assailant. Again, Calleigh silently made that vow to herself – she would _not_ be one of them.

Vadim's eyes sparkled deviously. Emphatically he brought the bagel to his own mouth, taking a slow bite. "You saw me open the cream cheese, sweetheart," he murmured. "I would've let you watch me open the bagel too, but imagine this absurdity – I thought you might want a warm, freshly baked one from the breakfast room downstairs instead of a frozen bagel right out of the freezer, all covered in ice." He grinned, tilting his head toward the grapes. "And it's not as if I could do much to those – they'd pop, and then they wouldn't be worth eating at all." To emphasize both his point and his innocence, Vadim grinned, plucking a single grape from the stem, popping it into his mouth. "I _highly_ doubt I would've done that it they were drugged."

Calleigh glared defiantly. "Unless it's something that would need a larger dose to take effect."

Skepticism was seeping from every rational part of her mind, surrounding her so thickly that not even a knife would penetrate it. "You need to learn to be more trusting, princess," Vadim smirked, showily finishing off the first half of the bagel.

"Kind of hard to trust someone who broke into my car and held a gun to my head," Calleigh snapped boldly, her cold gaze faltering only slightly at the flash of anger that passed through Vadim's eyes. "Look, why don't you just tell me what you want with me and get it over with."

Vadim chuckled lightly. "But that would ruin _my_ fun," he quipped, popping another grape into his mouth. "Now, eat something. Before I _make_ you eat," he added, his low voice sending a chill down Calleigh's spine.

If Calleigh could've crossed her arms in defiance, she would have. Emotions were warring within her, and at the moment, anger was winning out over fear. She feared him; she feared what he might do to her, certainly. But she couldn't help but feel angry, annoyed that he seemed more keen on playing games with her than anything else. And Calleigh held no fondness for games, especially not when she was tired, achy, hungry, and immensely worried about Eric.

With a sigh of slight annoyance, Vadim plucked another grape from the stem, bringing it close to Calleigh's mouth. "Open. Now." He'd dropped his entire pretense of joviality, and Calleigh couldn't help but feel her heart accelerate just slightly at his tone. "Do you _really_ want to piss me off?" he breathed, lightly touching the grape to Calleigh's lips. "Trust me, I still have no reason to kill you, but I can always find one. And until then, I can make the rest of your life a living hell…"

Her personal space invaded again, Calleigh couldn't stop the impulsive motion of her free hand. Roughly she shoved Vadim's arm back, sending the proffered grape hurtling across the room. "I'll do it _myself, _thanks," she snapped coldly, resigning herself to giving in and waiting to see if anything resulted from it. In her mind, though, it was easier rationalized as giving in to her hunger, not giving in to her captor; the latter of which she would fight hard.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, smirking as Calleigh reached quite hesitantly for the blueberry muffin. Lifting it to her lips with her free hand, she nibbled slowly at it, finding it difficult to eat without being able to split it into smaller pieces. She felt Vadim's eyes upon her, satisfied for the moment. "We can't have you fainting from malnourishment before the fun _really_ gets started, now can we?" He grinned. "So eat up, beautiful."

And that was the endearment at which Calleigh could not help but flinch. She'd never been one for special names and all that in her relationships before, but whenever Eric called her beautiful, she couldn't help but blush and beam like a teenager who'd only just fallen in love. The word was special in his voice; it felt all but desecrated in the voice of her captor. Lowering her eyes, Calleigh concentrated on the baked delicacy in her hand, mentally comparing its shortcomings to the perfect, freshly baked muffins that she often procured from her favorite bakery on the way to work, instead of focusing on the agitated emotions Vadim's simple word had evoked in her. "It would be a lot easier if you'd uncuff me," she forced out, setting the remaining half of the muffin back on the plate. It hadn't been much, but suddenly she wasn't quite as hungry after all, and with the almost constant, unpredictable bouts of nausea she'd endured for the past day, Calleigh was fearful of having too much in her stomach.

Vadim gave a harsh bark of laughter, and Calleigh jumped, startled. "I bet it _would_, wouldn't it?" he teased, offering a would-be conspiratorial wink. "However, it would also make so much else a lot easier – like escaping, perhaps." He grinned, and, finally accepting that Calleigh wasn't going to eat anymore, he quickly cleared the remains of the mostly untouched plate from the bed, setting it instead on the nightstand – he would deal with it later, when he felt more inclined to leave his position so close to her on the bed.

With the space now empty between them, Vadim moved closer to her, close enough that Calleigh could once more feel his breath against her cheek. "That said," he began in a whisper, relishing in the subtle shudder that consumed Calleigh's body, "I'd be perfectly happy to let you free for long enough to have a shower, among other such things…no, I wouldn't mind that _at all_." Pausing, he grinned deviously. "After all, the bathroom door locks, so there is very little chance of you escaping. And it's not as if you could try anything anyway – not when I'd be in there with you…"

The prospect left Calleigh shuddering, but before her brain could think of an acceptable retort, her words failed her completely. Slowly, Vadim lay a hand atop her thigh, squeezing softly. "You know," he began again, his voice just as hushed as before. With every word that left his mouth, Calleigh felt his hand inch slowly upward, every millimeter accelerating the beat of her heart into a rushing panic. "I'm beginning to see _exactly_ why that boy fell in love with you. You're feisty, you're independent," he purred. "Sexy as hell…"

Calleigh wanted nothing more than to lift her free hand and crack her fist against his jaw. Every inch of her was screaming at her, demanding that she push him away, but his sudden touch upon her had seemingly shut her down. The loss of her own control had left her immobile as once more, Seth's face swam so clearly in her memory.

She hadn't found out until later that Seth McAdams was in the system for attempted rape, but as he'd eyed her with those hungry dark eyes of his, there had been no question as to what he personally wanted out of their encounter. The lust in those dark eyes was so, _so_ similar to the devious glint that flashed through Vadim's eyes, and Calleigh felt her resolve crumble as the past closed in on her once more.

Her heart was again pounding frantically against her ribcage, echoing loudly in her ears with the rhythmic throbbing of her head. She felt dizzy, unable to breathe as his touch slowly inched farther upward. It was as though ice water was coursing through her veins, numbing her and leaving her lost within an inescapable haze.

And then, abruptly his lips brushed along her jawline, murmuring a string of Russian that Calleigh could not begin to interpret. But even if it had been English, Calleigh doubted she would've been able to comprehend. All she could do as he much too easily shattered her defenses was close her eyes, struggling with the past just as dearly as the present.

_As Tommy left, he took what little bit of hope Calleigh had held onto with him. She was alone – alone with Seth, with the hungry look in his eyes, the evil, frightening lust that oozed from every word from his lips. His intentions were clear, and while Calleigh couldn't fight back a shudder, she forced herself to meet his eyes, fixing him with her iciest stare as he spoke, though the weight of his words left her shrinking back in fear._

_"I thought that you and me could maybe waste a little time…"_

_"I'd rather die than have you touch me."_

Vadim gave a sudden chuckle, and Calleigh's stomach gave a nauseating lurch as she realized the defiant words she'd uttered once before had again left her lips. "Now don't be like that," he murmured with a smirk, his lips sickeningly close to Calleigh's ear. Abruptly he roughly squeezed her thigh, and, caught off-guard, Calleigh gave a quiet gasp. "Seems to me like you're quite enjoying it…"

Calleigh swallowed hard, fighting desperately against the urge to clench her fists, to dig her nails into the skin of her palms. Instead she concentrated on her breathing, struggling to steady her breaths – it had calmed her before, after all. She licked her lips, attempting to moisten them, but her mouth had gone so cotton-dry that it helped nothing. When finally she found her voice, it was a harsh, hoarse groan, in vast comparison to the sweet, normally musical lilt. "Get – get your hands off of me," she bit out slowly, hesitating only slightly at the foreignness of her own voice to her ears.

"Aw, she's getting shy," Vadim smirked. Calleigh made no effort to reply or otherwise react, because to his credit, he did remove his hand from her thigh. "That's okay, though," he continued, quickly rising from the bed. Calleigh had only just breathed a sigh of relief when he turned to her, retrieving from his pocket what Calleigh recognized immediately to be the key to her cuffs. He twirled it lazily in his fingers, a smile teasing his lips that left Calleigh shuddering once more. "We'll have plenty of time for that later – I can promise you that." Firmly he grasped her forearm with one large hand, using the other to manipulate the cuffs. "For now, I think I promised you a shower…"

..

With a deep groan of frustration, Ryan rose to his feet, raking his fingers through his dampened hair. The hours were slipping quickly by, and they were no closer to finding Eric or anything that would _help_ find Eric than they'd been the night before.

It was still early in the day, but the heat was already oppressive in the Everglades; the humidity was as heavy as a loaded freight train, bearing down upon him and leaving him soaked with sweat, his clothes sticking to him as if by glue. The sun, still far from the height of its daily orbit, was already beating down on him with a vengeance, leaving a burn upon his skin that Ryan knew would haunt him for the next several days, but that was of little importance to him right now.

If he could find one friend alive, and keep his promise to another, then he could handle a little heat and humidity.

With heavy steps, Ryan trudged through the mucky, swamp-like grove, ignoring the cuts on his arms inflicted by the various vines and other greenery. Their search had taken them deep into the Glades, far away from the dirt access roads that cut through the diverse vegetation. His eyes scanned the area carefully as he walked, but other than the typical insect life flocking toward his intrusion of their home, the only sign of motion came from his nearby partner as she straightened up, pausing in her search only long enough to take a necessary drink from a nearly empty water bottle.

Dark, damp tendrils curled around her face, having fought their way free of the messy ponytail at the back of her head. Her makeup was a lost cause; what little bit she'd attempted to put on that morning had all but melted from her sweaty face. Her cheeks were flushed, but whether from heat or from sunburn, there was no way to be sure. She looked to Ryan as she heard his approach, offering a smile that came nowhere close to meeting her eyes. "Hey," she greeted quietly, exhaustion already prevalent in her voice, but like himself, Ryan knew she wouldn't give up until they found Eric. "You find anything?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nothing. It's as if nothing even happened – everything is completely undisturbed. It doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah," Natalia agreed, emptying the last bit of water from her bottle. "If there was anything out here, we would've found something by now. But there's nothing – not even Locard transfer." She exhaled deeply, taking a moment to stretch her aching limbs.

"Water is constantly moving in and out of here," Ryan muttered, referring to not only the ceaseless motion of the canals, but also to the frequent rainstorms that often popped up without warning. "I don't know if we would find anything like that at all. Those tracks leading into the water back where we found the car are all we have. That, and the blood in the car and around that small area."

Natalia sighed, baffled as she slowly surveyed the surroundings, finding none of the clues she desperately prayed for. "What the hell do you think happened out here?"

For a moment, Ryan was silent. He exhaled deeply, again shaking his head. "Judging from the initial scene…whatever it was, it wasn't pretty." Clearing his throat, he switched gears to some new information, a text he'd received not too long ago from the lab. "Valera's still running DNA analysis on the blood from the car – there's so much of it though that she's _never_ going to finish."

"I don't envy her, but at least she's finding _some_ answers," Natalia replied.

"Yeah, at least we're getting something, even if it's not what we want," Ryan agreed. "Some of the blood _was_ Sharova's, so we know he lied about that. Most of it, though came from an unidentified source – there's not a match in the system. There, uh," Ryan paused, frowning as he carefully chose his next words. "Some of the blood _was_ Eric's, and there was, uh, quite a bit of it."

She'd known it was a possibility, but the new information hit Natalia like a brick to the chest. Suddenly, she found herself a bit unsteady on her feet. "Oh God," she breathed.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed, again raking his fingers through his hair. "It's getting bleaker by the moment."

Natalia shook her head, feeling the unmistakable icy feeling of dread plunge into her stomach. "Damn, as much as I hate to say it," she hesitated, biting anxiously at her lip. "If he's out here, Ryan, I don't know how he could be alive." She hesitated, pulling the soaked tendrils of dark hair away from her neck. "I just – I'm nearly suffocating in this heat. I've gone through two bottles of water in the past hour. Eric – he's been out here at least twenty-five times longer than we have. And if he's bleeding," Natalia paused, shuddering. "He's bait for anything. I just…"

She trailed off, and Ryan pulled the small pack from his back, quickly procuring an extra bottle. "I know…" he muttered, offering her both the bottle and a change in subject. "It's not cold by any means, but at least it's water."

"What about you?" Natalia asked, reluctantly taking the proffered water.

Ryan shrugged. "Don't worry about me." Before Natalia could open her mouth, he again shifted the focus of the conversation. "Listen, have you heard from Calleigh this morning?" he asked, searching for anything in Natalia's dark eyes.

But all he found was puzzlement at his question. "No…why?"

Taking a step closer, Ryan pursed his lips, diverting his gaze downward just briefly. "I'm…I'm worried about her," he divulged quietly, his voice almost lost to the natural sounds of the Everglades. "I tried to call her earlier, but she wasn't answering – at home, or on her cell."

Natalia shrugged. "She _was _pretty shaken yesterday – I'd understand if she decided to take the day, especially giving the…how close she is to Eric."

"No," Ryan said firmly, shaking his head. "It's _Calleigh._ We know her better than that." With a sigh, he continued his search through the area, Natalia following quickly at his side. "You know, I just feel like something isn't right," he elaborated after a moment. Wrapping his fingers around a stray branch, he pushed up and out of the way, holding it back for Natalia. "To be honest, I expected her back at the lab maybe an hour or two after I'd told her to go home last night," he continued, allowing himself a small smile at what would've been nothing but typical defiant Calleigh.

"I don't know," Natalia replied slowly, breathing hard in the heat. "I can see how she might just not be able to deal with this, you know? Like I said, she and Eric are close…"

"That's what I mean," Ryan insisted, sighing deeply. He hesitated, knowing Calleigh was a very private person, but what he'd seen the night before had weighed heavily upon him for the entire night. "She scared me last night," he revealed quietly, turning to face Natalia. "I mean, she _really_ scared me. I've known her for four years now, and while I'm certainly not Eric, I like to think we've been through a lot with each other. But last night…last night was the first time I've really seen her _break_. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, trying to convince her to go home because I _knew_ the idea was killing her. All she wanted was to be here searching for him, her own well-being be damned."

Natalia blinked slowly, shaking her head in awe. "That's Calleigh, all right…" she murmured, barely hearing Ryan's muttered affirmation. "Wow," she added after a moment, waiting for Ryan to meet her eyes once more. "They're the real thing, aren't they?" she whispered.

Ryan furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Eric and Calleigh." Natalia shrugged, allowing the smallest ghost of smiles to touch her lips. "Everything you're saying about Calleigh, it just reminds me of Eric. I mean, do you remember how he was back when Calleigh was abducted? Or when she nearly suffocated after that fire?" Ryan shuddered, the memories of that still fresh to his own mind. "Eric was a _wreck_. I don't really think there was anything he _wouldn't_ have done to make sure she was alright. When he thought he was losing her…" Natalia trailed off, finding her own voice thickened. Shaking her head, she reached for her water, bringing it quickly to her mouth. "You know, I teased him about having a crush on her, but that's all it was – I was teasing! And I thought you were crazy when you first mentioned them being together – I thought that was just office gossip, to be perfectly honest. But _damn_, how did I not see this before?"

She shook her head, the motion in sync with Ryan's headshake. "Secrets…"

"Are _never_ secrets where we work," Natalia quipped, and Ryan couldn't dispute the truth of that. "I must just be blind or something…"

"With selective hearing," Ryan quipped, smirking slightly at the memory from the case they'd worked together in the airplane, when she'd chosen not to hear any of what she'd written off as gossip.

Despite the gravity of the current situation, Natalia gave a soft burst of laughter, and Ryan couldn't help but feel as though a small weight was lifted from his shoulders at the sound, even if only temporarily. "Well, even so," she continued, branching off from the path she'd been sharing with Ryan, "I'm thinking about all the times I've seen them together, you know? And I don't know how I didn't see it – he is head over heels in love with her," she proclaimed, the awe unmistakable in her hushed voice. "Probably has been for quite some time…"

"I think it works both ways," Ryan replied, looking down at the mud beneath his feet. "I promised her, Natalia. Last night I promised her that we would find him. I – I _can't_ break that promise to her."

Through the patch of vegetation that now separated them, Natalia gave him a long look. "You won't. We'll find him. We _have_ to, Ryan."

Ryan nodded, wishing he believed that as firmly as Natalia seemed to. "I saw them yesterday, before all of this went down. They were arguing, and whatever it was, it unsettled Calleigh enough. She doesn't need the added stress, especially since…" He paused, remembering the utter franticness in the blonde's words from the day before. "I can't – I _won't_ be the one to tell her that he's gone. I can't imagine doing that to her. She – she already thinks she shot him yesterday…"

Natalia paused. "Oh _God._"

"Yeah." Sighing deeply, Ryan stopped and pulled out his phone, amazed to discover the presence of a signal, however weak though it was. "I'm going to try calling her again. This isn't like her," he said, already dialing the familiar number. As Natalia's path took her farther from where he stood, Ryan sighed, receiving the same result he'd gotten earlier – nothing but ringing leading to Calleigh's voicemail. "Hey, Cal? It's me again. I'm sorry for calling again, but…just call me, okay? Please?"

"Hey, Ryan!"

Biting his cheek anxiously, Ryan terminated the call, looking up at the sound of his name. He could see Natalia through the brush, and as quickly as was possible while still being cautious, he made his way to where she stood. "What'd you find?"

But Natalia didn't need to answer as Ryan followed the path of her gaze. His eyes widened at the sight before them. They'd come to a small clearing by the canal, and just by the water's edge there lay a body, motionless in the summer heat. His clothes were caked with dried mud, almost as though he'd been dragged for miles through the muck. The signs of a struggle were more than apparent – ripped clothing, bruises and lacerations dotting his skin. Still drying blood was caked on in places just as thickly as the mud, and Ryan turned his head for a second, his stomach protesting the palpable metallic scent. He lay facedown, awkwardly splayed in a position that suggested the breaking of multiple bones – he'd been tortured, that much was clear.

With a slight shudder, Ryan slowly approached him, his heart pounding against the wall of his chest – he already knew what he would find, but that didn't stop him from slowly kneeling beside him, glancing briefly up to a still-motionless Natalia.

Swallowing hard, Ryan extended a shaky hand, placing two fingers against the grimy skin of the man's neck. Slowly he felt around for any sign of life before glancing back to his partner, the answer clear in his eyes before he ever opened his mouth.

"He's dead, Natalia."


	4. four

**/4/**

Her stride full of purpose, Natalia pushed her way into Ryan's lab, absently retrieving her lab coat in the process. She'd taken a quick moment to freshen up upon returning to the lab, but other than rinsing the sticky sweat from her body, a shower did nothing to help her feel any better. If anything, she felt more exhausted than she'd felt before, but as she shrugged into her lab coat, Natalia forced herself to push that away and focus on the task at hand – it had torn at her to take a few moments out of the search to take a shower as it was, but the searing heat had gotten to her quite badly. She remained dehydrated, and the flush radiating from her skin alerted her to the painful sunburn she would wake up with in the morning.

But all of that she pushed from her mind, knowing it was of very little importance at the moment. Finding Eric should be the number one priority. Pasting a brave smile to her lips, she approached Ryan quickly, anxious to see what he evidence he had uncovered in the few moments that she'd been away.

It had been a huge relief at the moment to realize that the dead body they'd found was not Eric, but as time wore on, so did that relief. It dissipated into a realization that Eric was still out there somewhere; that they still might stumble upon his body somewhere, much like they had this one. Natalia shuddered at the thought, then placed all of her concentration into peering over Ryan's shoulder at his computer screen. "Have you found anything yet?" she asked, rather impatiently.

But Ryan was just as impatient. "Nothing that would really help us," he groaned, slowly turning toward Natalia, knowing she'd felt guilty about stepping away from the case, even for just a few moments. She'd needed it badly, though – today had been the first time he'd really seen Natalia suffer through that kind of strenuous heat, and by the time they'd made it back to the lab, Ryan was honestly afraid that she'd been about to collapse. Discreetly he allowed his eyes to scan quickly over her, and while it was clear she was still exhausted, just as he was, it seemed she'd regained a bit of her strength. "You feeling any better?" he asked quietly, the concern clear in his voice.

Natalia sighed, quickly gathering her still damp hair into a loose ponytail – leaving it down would only allow it to stick to her neck once more. "Not really," she admitted, allowing her dark eyes to meet Ryan's concerned ones for just a moment before again they darted to the screen in front of them.

"Maybe you should eat something," Ryan suggested. "A sandwich, maybe a –"

"I'm fine," Natalia interjected, offering a slight smile as apology for her interruption. Reaching downward, she lightly shook the pocket of her lab coat. "I've got a granola bar for later." Ryan, however, didn't seem convinced, and Natalia allowed her smile to fade, offering up her most honest statement instead. "I'll feel better when we find Eric," she murmured, her eyes proving the truth of that.

And as far as she could tell, that was the only thing that would make her feel better. With every moment that passed without a new lead, she grew more and more worried that they _weren't_ going to find him. And what if they didn't? What if they couldn't bring him home alive? The questions plagued her mind, and Natalia shivered, not at all fond of the scenarios that were quickly becoming the most probable.

Ryan seemed to accept her confession, conceding to his own worry as he replied. "Yeah," he muttered, his eyes once more to the screen. "Calleigh too…"

His admission startled Natalia, who couldn't help but look to him with surprise in her eyes. "You still haven't been able to get in touch with her?"

Ryan shook his head. "No," he sighed. "She's still not answering. And I don't know if it's just this whole thing with Eric, or what. I've got a feeling, though." He paused, biting at the inside of his cheek. "Something's wrong."

He was torn, though. His words were entirely factual – he _did_ have this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Calleigh's sudden absence wasn't just her way of expressing her need for a break. He _knew_ her; knew she wouldn't simply disappear like this, most _especially_ not now.

But what could Ryan do? The way his logical self perceived it, he had two real choices. He could act on what was little more than a hunch and divert his actions toward making sure Calleigh was okay – he would have no problem driving out to her place just to give himself that peace of mind. Or he could stay in the lab and in the field, working toward a conclusion for Eric, whether that conclusion be finding him alive or dead. And in the end, it all came down to Ryan knowing for a fact that Eric was missing; his unsettled feelings about Calleigh remained only that – feelings. He hated it, but what else could he do?

Vaguely his ears picked up on the sound of his name, sounding as though it were coming to him from so far away. It took him a moment to shake himself free of his conflicting thoughts, but when he did, he was brought face to face with Natalia's sudden concern – her dark eyes were filled with it. "Ryan?"

Ryan sighed, making the difficult decision in his mind. He just hoped he wouldn't live to regret it. "I found out a bit more about our guy from the 'Glades," he said quietly, drawing his attention back to the case at hand, though it was clear that his heart wasn't quite in it, at least not fully. "It's not a whole lot, since the M.E.'s office is still backlogged." Groaning, he rubbed at his tired eyes – it was just one thing after another in this place. "Tara really kind of put us in a bind here…but luckily, cause of death didn't exactly take rocket science to figure out," he continued, grateful at least for that. "Our guy was shot straight through the heart, almost at point blank range. I'd say he bled out almost immediately, but then again…" He paused, shrugging. "Not a medical examiner."

Natalia gave a slow nod, processing the new information. "Do we know where he came from?"

"He's definitely Russian mob; we know this much. He's in the system – Valera already got a DNA hit," Ryan added, rather glad to have a bit of good news. "His name's Yuri Lutrova, and he's got quite the rap sheet. Assault, attempted rape…if you ask me, whoever took him out did us a bit of a favor. Speaking of, there was trace evidence beneath his nails, but we're still waiting for a hit on that."

With a sigh, Natalia took a seat on the stool beside Ryan. "Do we know how he ended up where he did?" she asked, looking over the information on the computer screen.

Ryan shrugged. "Not much, at least not yet. Courtney and a couple of the other guys from nights are out there right now – they did find some marks in the dirt, and it looks like he was dragged out to that clearing and left there while the killer went back and attempted to hide his path. It worked, mostly."

Natalia blinked. "What do you mean by mostly?"

A grim grin touched Ryan's lips. "Nightshift is better than we give them credit for," he quipped. "They traced the path all the way back to where we found Sharova and the car."

"Really?" Natalia's eyes widened. "Do you think Eric had something to do with that, then?"

"I think it's very possible," Ryan replied, nodding slowly. "If so, at least we know he's holding his own. He's alive out there – we just need to find out where."

..

The grip that Vadim had upon her wrist was all but crushing as he pulled Calleigh into the bathroom, ignoring her quiet grunt of pain. "Why are you being so difficult, hmm?" he cooed, seemingly unbothered by her reluctance. With a low growl, he shoved at her small frame, sending her stumbling against the bathroom counter. "I thought you would be delighted with the chance to freshen up, as you say." He paused, chuckling. "After all, your type spend _hours_ in the bathroom getting ready each day, do they not?"

Calleigh scoffed, lifting her eyes to the mirror before her. Her fingers gripped the counter tightly as she caught the first glimpse of herself in the mirror – exhaustion and worry were both etched clearly upon her face. Her makeup from the day before, what little had remained after the grueling hours spent in the Everglades, was smeared about her face, doing nothing to conceal the telltale dark patches beneath her eyes. Her vibrant emerald eyes seemed empty and dull, almost appearing as hollow as her voice sounded, once she'd found herself able to summon it again. "My _type_?"

"You know," Vadim began, gesturing lightly. "Your type. The beautiful ones." There was that word again, and Calleigh couldn't help but shudder once more. If Vadim noticed, he didn't let on, though. "You _know_ you're beautiful, and you spend so much time getting dolled up so you can make sure everyone else knows it too." He paused, giving what might've been a friendly smile if the sight of it didn't make Calleigh so nauseous. "I'm so generous; I'm giving you the chance to do that."

Reaching out to her, Vadim drew a fingertip along her cheek from behind, allowing his touch to linger far longer than necessary. "You wouldn't want your pretty face to break out from day-old makeup. And I'm sure you'd love the chance to wash the sweat and grime from the swamp out of your hair, so it can shine like it's supposed to, right?"

"I have a feeling you don't give a damn about what I'd want or what I'd love," Calleigh snapped, closing her eyes. For the briefest second, she expected a harsh palm to her face, or any other form of inflicted punishment for her retort. But the greatest punishment by far was the soft, crisp sound that echoed in Calleigh's ears.

Her stomach reacted to the sound of the locking door with a sickening lurch. She was locked in the bathroom with her captor. And the bathroom did not have the same spacious appeal as the rest of the hotel room – it was _tiny. _Between the four walls, the toilet, the bathroom counter and the sink, and the shower, there was very little standing room inside, and suddenly Calleigh felt rather claustrophobic. Vadim had finally released her wrist, but where could she go with him blocking the only exit? She was certainly strong; she knew how to fight, but even she had to admit that there was no way she was taking this burly Russian down.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of having him behind her, Calleigh turned swiftly, her back to the counter. The angry fire in her eyes was undeniable, but Vadim remained utterly unfazed by it. After all, he wasn't afraid of a woman half his size, especially after he'd taken every possible precaution to make sure she remained unarmed. It was all a game to him right now, and he gave a patronizing smile. "Now, now, princess. Don't be like that. I'm only thinking about what's best for you," he cooed, invading her personal space by taking a step even closer to her. The space left between their bodies was now minute, barely enough for the flow of air between. "You _did_ spend most of yesterday afternoon shuffling around in the Everglades," he reminded her very matter-of-factly. "Don't you _want_ to freshen up?"

Calleigh narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest. Though it clearly had no effect, she brazenly fixed Vadim with her coldest stare. "You're _sorely_ mistaken if you think I'm doing anything with you in here," she breathed, her voice a deadly whisper.

In response to her defiance, Vadim only grinned. His eyes sparkled deviously – she was playing right into his plan. "I _thought_ you might be a little, uh, _uncomfortable_ with this," he remarked, grasping Calleigh's wrists. With a stronger force than was actually necessary, he tugged at her hands, ignoring her protest as he pulled her closer to the tub. To her immense displeasure, Vadim ended up once more behind her, one arm pinning her to his chest as the other reached for the dark blue shower curtain. With a smirk, he tugged the curtain out of the way to reveal the bathtub behind, and with a showy gesture of his hand, he directed Calleigh's attention to the contents within. "So I figured I should do my best to make you feel more…_at home."_

His voice chilled her deeply, but not as much as the sight she was treated to as she turned her head toward the tub. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, but when it hit her, it hit hard enough to leave her nearly gasping for air. Lined up along the wall of the tub were three bottles, bottles that Calleigh recognized immediately. Shampoo and conditioner, as well as body wash, all the same brand and scent as what Calleigh knew was in her bathroom at home.

But what frightened her most was that none of the bottles were full. They weren't new bottles – what remained within was the same amount that Calleigh knew she had left at home.

They _were_ the bottles from her bathroom.

Suddenly nauseous, Calleigh turned her head, already knowing what she would find against the other wall, but dreading it all the same. Attached to a small hook on the wall was the mint green bath puff she'd bought to replace the blue one she'd left at Jake's almost a year before. And next to that, attached to the wall with small suction cups was her pink razor, holder and all. It had all been taken right out of her bathroom, that much was clear.

Swallowing back the acidic taste in her mouth, Calleigh unconsciously gripped at the wall for support. "How…" She couldn't even complete her question, finding enough difficulty in formulating just the single word. Knowing Vadim or any of the others had been in her home, in her bathroom left her feeling so violated, even more than she already felt.

Vadim gave a soft chuckle at her shock – clearly she'd underestimated the prowess of the mob. "Let's just say I have my ways, sweetheart," he cooed, drawing his fingertips along the smooth curve of her hip. Reaching around, his fingers curled around the shower knob, turning it and quickly starting a warm spray of water from the showerhead. "But it doesn't matter how or when I got into your place – all that matters is that you…" He paused, letting his palms skirt over her hips. "You have everything you need; everything you're familiar with."

His hands began a slow trek upward, ratcheting up the pace of Calleigh's heartbeat. She knew what his fingers were reaching for before her eyes delivered the vision to her brain. Her mouth had gone dry; she parted her lips to issue a protest, but no words came. Holding her breath, she merely watched as Vadim's skillful fingers latched onto the lowest button on her blouse, teasing it slowly from the corresponding hole.

One button.

Two.

It took the third before her abrupt paralysis seemed to wear off. By then, the palm of his hand had skirted along her bare abdomen in a caress that was _nothing_ like the way Eric always touched her. Eric's hands explored her body with reverence, with respectful desire, almost as if every time he touched her left him taken with awe. But Vadim's hands were nothing but hungry; groping and eagerly taking whatever he could clasp his fingers around. The comparisons sickened her further, and Calleigh couldn't help but sway on her feet, unable to reach to anything to steady herself.

Still holding her breath despite the dizziness in her head, she fought back the nausea, gathering enough of her strength to force his hands away from her. "No," she bit out, wrapping her arms protectively around her middle as she turned to face him again, her features set on her face.

For a moment, Vadim failed to react. But then, a slow smile curled upon his lips, a reaction that left Calleigh more fearful than if he'd grown downright angry with her. The smile, however, meant he was still amused. He still wanted to play with her – in his mind, the game was far from over.

Reaching out, Vadim tucked a stray lock of blonde behind her ear. "Your shyness is _adorable,"_ he cooed, purposely misreading the intent behind her actions. "So sexy…you know, if I weren't such a good man, I might not be able to resist taking you right here, right now." Calleigh shuddered heavily, unable to fight it back as she dropped her gaze in mortification. Vadim smiled. "But because I _am_ caring and generous and want nothing but the _best_ for you," he continued, tilting her chin upward with his fingers, "I'm willing to let you have a little bit of privacy – I'll _know_ if you try anything funny, though, so you'd best not do that."

His hand quickly dropped to his side and into his pocket, and Calleigh couldn't help but tense slightly, not knowing for what he was reaching. When his fingers reemerged, they held a cell phone – not Calleigh's own, she realized with a sense of defeat. If it had been hers, there was a chance that she could be found via the GPS.

Silently though, she chastised herself for getting her hopes up – this man was far smarter than that. If Calleigh knew anything at all, she knew for a fact that her own cell phone would be nowhere near where they were now. Her phone, her car…she was left with nothing that might alert her team to her whereabouts.

Her distress must've shown on her face, though Vadim read it as a different feeling entirely. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not going far." With a wink, he finally stepped back from her, offering her a bit of breathing room. He reached out for the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door only a slight bit. "I'll be right outside – you just take you a nice shower, okay? I've got a phone call to make…"

Without giving Calleigh ample time to process her confusion at his sudden change in the game plan, Vadim swept his way out of the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. True to his word, he didn't go far – he wasn't willing to take the risk of letting her escape. Casually he leaned against the wall, a devious grin growing on his lips as he quickly dialed the number he'd procured the night before.

He brought the phone to his ear, chuckling as he heard the telltale ringing from the other line. Now, he only needed to wait for an answer.

And then, round two would begin.

..

He was exhausted and severely dehydrated, but if there was one fact that was painfully clear to Eric Delko, it was that he was still alive. And _painfully_ aware he was – his shoulder throbbed with an intensity above any pain he'd ever experienced. It was even worse than the agony he'd gone through after the last shooting – at least with that, he'd spent several days drifting in and out of consciousness while the worst of the injuries healed. This one wasn't severe enough to affect his consciousness, and even if it were, Eric would've forced himself to push through that – if not, he would've been killed by the Russian mob.

The bullet – Calleigh's, Eric remembered with a wince – wasn't lodged in his shoulder or anything, but the hit had been more than just a simple graze. When Calleigh aimed, she aimed to hit, and this time certainly was no exception. If not for his quick movements while maneuvering the car through the warzone, Eric was certain he might have a bullet through the heart right now. The realization chilled him, but forcefully he suppressed a shudder, knowing the motion would jar his shoulder.

It had bled rather severely at first, leaving him no choice but to sacrifice his shirt for a makeshift bandage. Soaked with blood and sweat, the material remained wrapped tightly around his shoulder, but little good it was doing. It was a wound that even the slightest movement would rip open again, undoing any of the healing that might have taken place. And it wasn't as if Eric had spent any time resting since yesterday afternoon – pulling a body through the swamp and fighting his own way through the brush were definitely considered physical activities, the kind which one with his injury might be advised to avoid.

And it was clear from the slowly intensifying throbbing that the wound was growing infected. The sweat and drying blood that caked his skin were the least of his worries; it was the various pathogens lurking in the 'Glades that concerned him. And he wasn't exactly strong enough right now to fight off a severe infection – even though he'd only been out there for one day, it was hot enough that Eric was already weakened considerably. His throat was parched, but he sure wasn't about to moisten it with the water flowing through the 'Glades. He was starving, but his body felt much too heated to attempt eating.

Eyes closed, for a moment, Eric fought to catch his breath. He'd taken refuge several miles away from the scene he'd fled; several miles beyond where he knew both the Russians and the CSIs would form a perimeter, both searching for him. Heart pounding almost painfully against his ribcage, he'd slumped against a dead tree, not even registering the cuts left along his bare back from the roughness of the trunk. He winced only a little as the abundant drops of sweat burned within them, but beyond that, he spared them no thought.

Instead, for the first time in a day, Eric cleared his mind of the Russians and the plan he'd gotten himself involved in, allowing his thoughts to drift to the beautiful blonde who occupied his mind ninety-nine percent of the time. It was those thoughts of her that had brought him so quickly through the required therapy after his first shooting; generally, thinking of Calleigh made everything seem a little less daunting, a little less dark.

But right now, thinking of her left his shoulder aching just that much more, for the pain was multiplied by the sudden flash of heartache. It had been difficult before they'd gotten together, but after that, it had become nearly impossible to keep secrets from Calleigh, even when his job depended on it. It killed him not to let her know what was going on; it killed him to know he'd upset her just the day before.

And the look in her eyes as their gazes met from across the firefight…

Surprise. Then confusion. Then pain and betrayal. And with that, Eric had to look away; he couldn't hold her gaze knowing that he'd put the pain, the sense of betrayal there. And he couldn't even tell her the truth – that was what pained his heart the most, having to lie to her.

That was the pain that left him wanting nothing more than to die.

Everything else, he could handle. Drinking water would heal dehydration. Nutrition would heal his hunger and his aching muscles. Rest would soothe him; a trip to the ER would heal his shoulder. That was all easy.

But there was no telling whether he would ever heal from the _other_ pain.

Eric had no way of telling whether or not Calleigh would _ever_ forgive him.

Let alone ever trust him again.

With a deep sigh, Eric allowed his head to fall heavily back against the tree trunk behind him. The regrets in his mind and heart were plentiful – he _never_ should've let it get this far. It was true what they said about curiosity killing the cat, apparently. Eric had been unable to leave well enough alone – he'd insisted upon finding the honest truth about his parentage. And from there, it had simply cascaded into the mess he currently found himself in. Because he'd wanted to find his real father all those months ago, he might've lost the one woman he'd truly ever cared about with all of his heart.

He _still_ couldn't believe that a discrepancy surrounding his birth had led to all of this – Calleigh angry and possibly never speaking to him again; him bleeding and grimy and exhausted as he lay in wait miles away from civilization, having just barely made it there alive.

Abruptly Eric was brought out of his thoughts by a vibration at his side – his cell phone, which, after being dragged through such muck and water, he was surprised still worked. More than that, he was amazed that he even had enough signal out here to receive a call. But that in itself infused the fear into his veins – there was only one person he could think of who would be calling him right now – on this number, at least; his department phone remained at work in his locker – and that could either mean good news or bad. The way the rest of the news was going, though, Eric had a pretty good feeling as to which it would be.

But when he unclipped his phone from his belt, it showed not the number he'd expected. It showed not a number at all, only a single word that was far more startling than it would've been under any other circumstance.

_Restricted._

His trepidation growing, Eric shakily flipped the phone open and brought it to his ear.

In less than a second, he wished he'd _never_ answered it.

He had no idea who it was, but there was one detail that Eric recognized immediately; one detail that left his blood going cold in his veins. Though the connection was filled with static, there was no mistaking the heavy Russian accent that filtered through to his ear. "You made quite a mistake answering that phone, boy."

His tone was derisive, and immediately Eric straightened up, wincing at the resulting pain in his shoulder. "Who – who is this?" he rasped, the hoarseness of his voice shocking to his own ears. He swallowed hard, though the effort was fruitless while his mouth remained dry like cotton.

"There you go again, asking questions to which the answers are far, _far_ better left unknown. You've created quite a mess here, you know that?" Miles away, Vadim gave a sinister chuckle, pleased at the frustration he'd heard in Eric's voice as soon as he'd answered the phone. "Let me ask you something…did you _ever_ think you'd be able to get away with any of this?"

The question sparked fear within Eric, though he fought as best as he could to keep any indication of it out of his voice. "What are you talking about? Who the hell is this?"

"I'm the man who is _always_ going to be one step ahead of you, that's who I am," Vadim sneered. "You thought your little plan was so clever, huh? Get yourself in deep with us in order to flush us out? It might've worked, except you overlooked the most important detail, boy. You tried to outsmart us, and ended up getting outsmarted yourself. Now tell me, how does that feel? Because I've sure as hell never had it happen to me."

Eric bit hard at his lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Vadim clucked in disapproval – Delko didn't have the sassy attitude that Calleigh had; he wasn't _nearly_ as much fun to play with. "You've not been doing this long enough, Delko," he mocked. "You need to be more careful when you play double agent."

Eric furrowed his brow, though not out of confusion – he knew exactly what the other man was getting at. "Excuse me?"

The evil grin was audible over the phone. "You never know who else is _also_ playing that role." Vadim paused, smirking. "Though, that really wasn't necessary at all. You're such a gullible fool as it is. You'll believe anything after you've had your heartstrings tugged at just a bit."

With a jolt, Eric realized that there was some element of truth in those words. But he wasn't ashamed at the need he felt to give people the benefit of the doubt – no, the fear came with the next realization. That was probably how they planned to bring him out into the open again – by tugging at his heartstrings, as the Russian had put it so eloquently. Quickly Eric scanned through his mind, but before he had time to delve deep, Vadim was speaking again, the connection fuzzier than it had been just a second before. "I won't keep you any longer," he said, and Eric could hear the gleeful grin in his voice. "I know you're out there with a limited cell battery…and I need to get back to my beautiful lady – she should be finishing up in the shower about now."

Eric scoffed, failing to put two and two together in his current state. "As if any _lady_ would have anything to do with you."

Vadim grinned – that was just the answer he'd hoped for. "Funny, Delko," he chuckled amusedly. "That's not what she told me last night…after I'd left her so damn satisfied that she couldn't even remember her own name." He paused for dramatic effect. "Imagine that, having to remind an intelligent woman such as Calleigh Duquesne what her own name was, because all she could remember was _mine_."

The block of ice that dropped into Eric's stomach at the mention of Calleigh's name was enough to stop his heart cold. "What?" he choked out ineloquently, his body startling so violently that he felt the gash on his shoulder reopen with a sickening burst of agony.

Vadim gave a low hum. "You didn't think twice about what you were doing to her, did you, Delko? You broke her little heart with your lies, your silly little games. It's a good thing I was here to soothe her…" Pausing, he gave a quiet sigh of pleasure, knowing from the hitch of breath on the other line that he was achieving his desired effect – riling Eric up.

Eric bit hard enough at his lip to draw blood, though logically he forced himself to hold onto the one truth he knew remained. "How do I know you're not just saying things because you know it'll bring me out of hiding?" he bit out, venom dripping from each word.

"Because unlike you, _we _are not all talk," Vadim replied with a smirk. "We follow through on our threats; _nobody_ is going to call our bluff." He paused, quickly growing tired of the conversation at hand. "You know, one day when you grow up a little more, you'll learn that your actions will _always_ have consequences. You should've thought everything through before you decided to stick your nose where it didn't belong. And you _really_ should've thought it all through before you decided to play your little undercover game with us." Pausing, he smirked again. "You played undercover with us, but I'm the one who gets to play under _the_ covers with your little blonde vixen."

Eric was dizzy. He was sickened at the thought of any of them touching or even taking a second glance at Calleigh – _his_ Calleigh. Everything within him was growing muddled – he wanted to fight for Calleigh, but somehow there remained the logical part of him, the part of his mind that reminded him that Vadim had yet to give him proof.

He didn't hear his own voice, but Eric knew he must've uttered those words out loud, thanks to Vadim's next growl. "You don't have the leverage right now to demand proof. All you need to know is that she's _mine_ now. All that long, blonde hair, those soft curves, that feisty attitude…" Vadim hummed in pleasure, drawing it out just to torment Eric – it worked. "All mine."

"I don't believe you." The words were harsh, defiant, and quite possibly untrue – Eric wouldn't put it past them to go after Calleigh, after all.

"Then call her. See if she answers – you and I both know just how punctual Calleigh is when it comes to answering her phone. Why, I bet it even goes directly to voicemail." Eric was silent, and Vadim gave a sly smile, weighing his options – his options far outweighed Eric's at this point. "There is…a photograph in her wallet, behind her license. I pulled it out of her wallet when I took her at gunpoint last night," he added, both as proof and as another way to antagonize Eric. "It's a candid photograph of the two of you together…nothing special, but she must've thought it special enough to hang on to." He paused again, and Eric growled quietly, growing displeased with the runaround. "If you're not careful, I'll make sure that photograph is the only piece of her you _ever_ get back."

"You son of –"

"Now play nice, little boy," Vadim interjected with a sneer. "Or else I will make what remains of Calleigh's life a living hell. I promise you that." Eric opened his mouth to retort, but Vadim, having tired of the theatrics, quickly cut him off before he could begin. "I'm done with this, but don't you worry, you'll definitely be hearing from me again. In the meantime…why don't you say hello to your pretty friend for me." He chuckled quietly – how Delko had _ever_ thought this plan was a secret was beyond him. "You know, the one you've been confiding everything in when you _should've_ been telling the woman you love instead."

And with that, the line went dead. Once more, Eric was left alone in the Everglades, seared by extreme heat, agonized by throbbing pain. And now, he had his tortured thoughts to add to all of that – the realization that Calleigh may or may not be in danger now because he'd exposed the mob himself in the beginning.

The Russian's parting words echoed loudly in Eric's mind. It was veiled as an accusation of infidelity, but under the circumstances, Eric knew for a fact that it wasn't that – he almost wished the man _had_ accused him of that instead. But the words he'd uttered were an indirect acknowledgment of the secret operation Eric had been involved with for months. What had begun with some innocent, curious questions had morphed into the Russian mob feeling the need to protect their secrets at any and all costs. But at that point, it had been too late – the good guys had already begun their fight to bring the mob to justice.

But now, what was supposed to have been a covert operation from the very beginning seemed to have been known by them all along. And in their eyes, Eric had started this.

In revenge, they were going after him.

Through Calleigh.

To break him, they would break Calleigh.

And it would work_._

The idea that Calleigh could possibly be alone with one – or more – of them was enough to leave Eric feeling physically ill. He'd seen the aftermath of enough of their cruel games; what they called _fun_ often ended with someone mangled beyond recognition. Eric shuddered hard, knowing that their idea of revenge had to be hundreds of times worse.

He still didn't have definitive proof, but at this point, Eric wasn't going to wait around for it. If the Russians _did_ in fact have Calleigh, her life was not all that would be in danger. And if they didn't have Calleigh…they _would_ get her. In terms of weaknesses, she was his greatest and they knew it now, if they didn't before.

Breathing heavily, Eric ignored the agonizing pain in his shoulder as he squinted down at the display of his phone. It was blurry to his eyes, but somehow he managed to scroll through the contacts until he landed upon the name that he needed. Until just moments ago, he'd thought this was the one person who knew of his plans, the only person who knew all that was going on with the case at hand – after all, she had helped orchestrate it. But clearly all had changed, and Eric could only hope that she would see it just as he did, despite lacking hard physical proof that Calleigh truly was in danger. For Eric, just the simple threat on her life was enough.

Praying that his signal would last long enough for his call to go through, Eric breathed out a sigh and hit send, once more drawing the phone to his ear. It only took a ring and a half before the phone was answered, and Eric closed his eyes, hearing the roughness of his tired voice as he spoke.

"Yelina."


	5. five

**/5/**

_Eric felt as if the breath had been stolen right from his lungs. _

_Despite the humid warmth of the breeze that tickled his skin, he couldn't suppress an all-consuming shiver. The deafening pounding of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, drowning out the distant lapping of gentle waves against the shoreline. His entire being in this moment was reduced to little more than the words dancing before his eyes._

_Now he understood completely why Yelina had asked to meet him. Even more baffling had been the location, but even that he understood now. He sat across from her at a picnic table beneath a wooden pavilion, sheltering them from the bright sunlight. The only other people around occupied the small playground several yards away; occasionally, Eric's ears would pick up on the soft giggle of a child. But for the most part, his attention was gripped solely by the task before him._

_The breeze had grown ominous, ushering in thoughts and fears he'd never dreamed he'd have to deal with. He had never expected his search for the truth to put his life in mortal peril. And beyond that, he'd never expected it to come down to this. Never had the truth carried such great consequences. _

_The words on the pages in front of him seemed to swim before his eyes, blurring together and leaving him little chance to put them into context. He'd never been asked to do something like this before – suddenly, he was thankful as opposed to resentful that Horatio had turned to Wolfe instead of to him last year. Now that he had a similar opportunity before him, Eric wasn't sure he could do it. _

_He swallowed hard, finally lifting his eyes to the patient detective before him. When he spoke, his voice was rough, almost unfamiliar to his own ears. "You're asking me to go under."_

_Yelina hesitated for a moment, biting thoughtfully at her lip. "In a way, yes." Again she paused, carefully watching the man across from her. "You would likely not have any direct contact with members of the Russian mob – they do, after all, know who you are. It's much too dangerous to assume that you'd ever be able to make it in with them."_

_Shaking his head, Eric frowned. "Then what's the point of all of this?" Confused was an understatement – he was supposed to deliver information from the mob, but he wasn't supposed to actually fight his way into the mob? It made very little sense to him. _

_Leaning forward, Yelina rested her arms on the picnic table. "We want to flush out the Russians," she stated matter-of-factly. "We don't want to place you inside – we want to expose them. Basically what we're looking for is information, and then when the time is right, you are going to bring them to us."_

_"How am I going to bring out the entire mob?" It was absurd to his mind – the Russians were many, and Eric was only one man. Even more than that – he was a man with a bullet fragment in his brain, one which could shift at any time. And that could have drastic consequences, both to his life and to any careful assignment he happened to find himself a part of. And while it had been two years since the shooting, there were still moments that Eric felt unsure of himself. Those moments were fewer and farther between than they had been before, but he had since accepted that they would always be a part of his life. Even at work sometimes, especially along the younger officers on patrol, he remained the cop with the bullet shard in his brain. _

_Yelina, however, seemed to have none of those reservations, and Eric couldn't help but appreciate that…at least, until she spoke once more. Two words, and suddenly Eric understood. "Alexander Sharova."_

_There was a moment's pause before Eric spoke again. "Oh."_

_Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. Eric was supposed to use the familial connection between himself and Sharova. Despite the fact that neither really wanted anything to do with the other – that much had been made clear the day that Eric had knocked a tooth from the other man's mouth. Why Sharova had come forward to have him released from the detention center was still a mystery to him, but Eric had a sneaking suspicion that Horatio had more to do with it than Sharova simply having a change of heart. A man like that doesn't just have a sudden change of heart._

_Yelina nodded, shuffling through the file before her. She pulled out three photographs of Sharova, all three taken in a car, all three with Sharova wearing an oddly suspicious expression."Sharova has expressed an interest in escaping from the mob. Offering up the truth of your familial relation aroused a fair bit of suspicion from the mob. More than just suspicion, really. His prospects were not good at first – the Russians do not appreciate being deceived like that, and Sharova had tricked them for years into believing that he was Russian-born. So he's been quiet, lately – as you see, we've been keeping surveillance on him. Our every indication is that he would like nothing better than to disappear from the Russians' radar." She paused, clearing her throat. "You know from experience how difficult it is to shake them."_

_Eric nodded slowly, reminded all too clearly of the hit that'd been placed upon him – they'd been relentless. Certainly Eric had discovered the truth surrounding his birth, but along with that truth had come other secrets, secrets he'd wished he'd never discovered. And once the Russians realized that Eric had found those secrets, he hadn't been able to return to his daily routines. He still wasn't sure it was safe for him – he still hadn't been able to return to his condo, but he'd been saved from staying in another seedy motel by his blossoming relationship with Calleigh. "Where do I fit in all of this?"_

_"What Sharova doesn't know is that the Russians are no longer angry with him. After their initial rage over his deception, they have realized how much more valuable he could be to them as an American citizen. If they have him, their power would be almost boundless." She paused, giving Eric a long look. "Your task is to convince him to go back to the Russians. The goal here is to get him back in their good graces, enough that they will begin sharing pertinent information with him again. That they will include him in their tasks." Again Yelina paused, taking a quick breath while allowing Eric a chance to process the glut of information. "He will, of course, be deceiving them again because he wants nothing more to do with them – he wants out. So the information he gets will be passed on to you, and you will direct it to me. I would take it from there." _

_The confusion in Eric's eyes was clear, and Yelina smiled gently – it was a lot to process. "The key here is to make him believe that you are his way out. He helps you get the information we need, and you help him."_

_"So if this all succeeds," Eric began, his voice a bit hoarse, "what would be the outcome?"_

_Yelina smiled; despite the coarseness in his voice, there was also a curiosity there. The more he took in, the more accustomed to the plan he was growing. "The information will leak both ways," she said, watching as Eric's brows furrowed. "That part of the plan is not in motion yet, but when the time comes, you will give Sharova information with the understanding that he will leak it back to the Russians. If they believe him, then we've got them. If not, we'll deal with that when the time comes."_

_"What kind of information?" Eric asked, lifting a brow._

_Yelina shook her head dismissively. "That's still to be decided. The important thing now is to get you into position, should you decide to say yes," she amended, watching him closely. "You would need a fair amount of time – even though the man is your father, I wouldn't expect him to trust you overnight. You'd need some time to bond. Band together with him; share your common interests. The important thing here is that he trusts you more than he trusts the Russians."_

_Averting his eyes, Eric gave a long sigh. He knew exactly what Yelina was getting at with her last statements. With trust came openness – something he would, in essence, sacrifice with one person for whom he cared deeply in order to forge with someone he would otherwise never trust. Absentmindedly, he tapped his foot on the hard ground below, a nervous tic, a slight physical manifestation of the anxiety that dwelt within. Any bonding would have to be almost clandestine; the picture put forward would have to show only that – father-son bonding, nothing else._

_An absurdity pushed its way into Eric's mind, for the moment offering a bit of comic relief from the dreaded realizations that clouded the rest of his thoughts. "So, uh, basically you're asking me to…" he paused, smirking. "Go fishing with my father?"_

_It was the first light statement to find its way into the somber discussion, and Yelina couldn't help but give a small smile. "If you like fishing, then by all means," she replied jocularly._

_"Not really, I don't," Eric snickered, scratching the back of his neck."Sounds like I'm gonna have to learn to enjoy it, though."_

_"You are saying yes?"_

_Eric sighed deeply, clasping his fingers at the back of his neck. "Am I the only one who can do this?"_

_Yelina nodded gravely. "You have a connection to Sharova that no one else has. He is not going to trust Horatio or anyone else, but there is a chance with you. You have a reason why you would want to get to know him –"_

_"But I don't," Eric interrupted, leaning forward. Elbows on the table, he rested his head in his palms, closing his eyes for the moment in frustration. "I don't want to get to know him. He's nothing to me."_

_"That's why this works," Yelina insisted softly, waiting for Eric to meet her eyes before continuing. "If you wanted a relationship with this man, you wouldn't be able to do this. If you wanted him in your life, if you wanted him to, I don't know, be a part of your future children's lives, then this wouldn't work. It works because you don't care about him."_

_"I didn't say that," Eric protested weakly, Yelina's words seeming unnecessarily cold to him. "I just…don't want anything to do with him. After what he did to my mother…" _

_He clenched a fist, silently seething. If there was one thing he knew, it was that he _hated_ this man. Didn't want to have him in his life; sure didn't want him to be a part of his children's lives, should he and Calleigh ever decide to have any…_

_The thought soothed him, and Eric even found a tiny smile quirking at his lips. It was still premature to be thinking about children, but immediately his mind had drifted to Calleigh, as though he'd find it impossible to have them with anyone else. And he knew he didn't want to. _

_The smile faded from his lips though as the reality of his impossible dilemma crashed over him in waves. Arms on the table, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against them. What was he supposed to do, he wondered, closing his eyes in frustration._

_On the one hand, Yelina's offer was tempting. Months ago when he'd sought out the truth of his existence, the Russians had responded by ruining his life. They'd taken away his security. They'd effectively taken his home. They left him looking over his shoulder after every corner he turned – they'd turned a trusting man into one who never left home without his gun. _

_He couldn't deny it – the idea of revenge sounded very sweet to his ears. But quickly he shoved that thought away – Eric Delko was not a vengeful man, and in simply thinking about it he found himself feeling the characteristic churn of guilt in his stomach. Revenge went against every precept he'd been brought up with, and even though the nagging voice in his mind reminded him that his life, his childhood had been a lie, those beliefs were not something he could just turn his back on._

_But justice was different. Justice was noble. Justice was not frowned upon the way revenge often was. To get justice against the Russian mob would make him more than the cop with a bullet in his head, the one who still made the occasional stumble around the lab. To bring them down would bring honor back to his name, and while Eric knew that wasn't the most important part of life, he couldn't deny that it sounded sweet to his ears. The entire department wanted these guys brought down, and if Eric could do it…the benefits would be immense._

_But there was a darker side to this kind of justice. Justice, by definition, was not often synonymous with lies and deceit._

_And both of those would make up much of his life for as long as this assignment drew on. _

_Yelina would be the only one who could have the truth. That meant lies to Horatio, lies to the rest of the team, lies to his family…_

_Lies to Calleigh._

_Calleigh._

_And that was where it became complicated. _

_He would have to do all of this without her knowledge, without her blessing. She could not know of any of it. If she asked, he would have to lie to her, and that was enough to leave Eric shuddering. A relationship based in lies was hardly a relationship at all, and one that was only destined for ruin. And to do that to her, knowing the issues she's had with trust in the past…it wasn't something he could hope to be okay with, that was for sure. Her words to him years ago echoed in his ears – she trusted him with every fiber of her being. He hadn't fully grasped it at the time, but now he knew just how monumental that truly was. Any relationship he'd seen her in, be it with boyfriends, her father, anyone – a good portion of those had crumbled due to a dissolution of that trust. And Eric would rather die than let that happen between himself and Calleigh._

_It wasn't just the lies and the deception that ate at him – it was the promise that he would be breaking. It wasn't a promise he'd made verbally to her, but it was just as important, and the idea of breaking it left his heart tearing at the seams. In opening his heart to her, in assuring her that he'd be there for her should she make that leap along with him, Eric had promised himself that he would never be just another Jake Berkeley to her. The lies and deception, the countless nights spent apart, the emotional distance required by their conflicting careers…Eric had always sworn never to put her through that._

_But now for the first time, as much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to understand Jake's side of the story._

_And there was a sympathy there, one which Eric would never have expected to feel for the other man. There was a sense of obligation attached to this kind of work, a kind that one could not hope to understand until being faced with that situation himself. Yelina had said it – Eric was the only one who could do this. How many times had Jake felt that same obligation? And how many times had he felt that same desire to prove himself? _

_There had been quite a few moments that Eric had found himself surprised at the depth of feeling that Jake appeared to have for Calleigh, but he'd been unable to fathom it at the time – because how could anybody possibly choose work instead if he truly did feel that deeply for Calleigh? _

_After Calleigh's kidnapping, Eric had cursed the other man for failing to show his face for months. And months before that, he'd cursed him again when he'd chosen not to check up on Calleigh after her almost-carjacking; when he'd chosen to go straight to work instead and wait for Calleigh to seek him out. He'd cursed Jake for being strictly in tune with the case alone instead of concentrating on the woman who shared his bed. _

_He'd heard the stories through the grapevine of inter-lab gossip; knew the times that Jake had chosen his secret life over Calleigh, something that Eric had found utterly ridiculous. He would never do that, and had told Calleigh just as much after Jake had chosen to end their relationship rather than take a reassignment – yet another time that Eric had found himself cursing the other man under his breath._

_But now, while he wouldn't dare bestow the title of sainthood upon Jake Berkeley, Eric couldn't help but understand the other man's position. And it truly was an impossible one – how Jake had done it for years was beyond the scope of Eric's comprehension, though. All he was certain of now though was that he was seeing Jake and his choices in a whole new light. Put in a similar situation, Eric himself wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't make the same decisions._

_And, in the end, Jake had chosen Calleigh. That in itself meant quite a bit – it was a huge sacrifice, and no one knew if Jake was alive now or not. In choosing Calleigh, he'd blown his cover, which Eric finally understood was part of the risk all along. The worst part, though, had to be the rejection, and Eric again found himself feeling another unexpected pang of sympathy for the other man. He too, after all, knew what it was like to be too late. _

_With a deep sigh, Eric lifted his eyes once more to meet Yelina's. He was truly torn; what seemed such a simple decision when presented to someone else was suddenly one that he couldn't make to save his life. Either way, there was going to be risk involved, but at least if he took the assignment, it meant there was a chance that the mob would be taken down. His life could go back to normal. And most importantly, he and Calleigh could simply be together without the constant fear that the Russians were planning a secret attack on him, or worse, on her. He could take her out, truly court her the way he'd always daydreamed about. _

_His eyes must've spoken for him, for Yelina was nodding, leaning in close as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I do need to impress upon you the gravity of this. Do not let yourself become attached to him, Eric. He may be your father, he may be a good guy after all, but you cannot let your emotions get in the way of this assignment. You cannot let your heart make your decisions for you here – this is every bit a mind game, and the moment you let your heart overtake your mind could very well be the moment that everything falls apart." She paused, her expression nothing but serious. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"_

_Eric nodded slowly, biting at the inside of his cheek. Surely though, Yelina realized there was nothing to worry about – sure, Eric was quick to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he doubted there was anything Sharova could possibly say to tug his heartstrings. He would have no sympathy for that man._

_And so, with a deep breath and a silent apology to Calleigh for the lies he would have to deliver, his determined eyes met Yelina's unflinchingly. Throwing caution to the wind, he nodded once more as he spoke. "I'll do it."_

_.._

On the dirt access road behind him, a mud-splattered Jeep came to an abrupt stop, the door quickly opening and closing again. But exhausted and growing slightly delusional from the heat and the pain in his arm, Eric made no effort to turn and greet his visitor. He knew who it was, though – the Russians would not have made such a cacophony; they would've crept quietly in on him, and Eric would've been dead before even realizing the danger.

He merely kept his slumped position as his visitor made her approach, his bare back gaining numerous scratches from the tree against which he'd rested. The hand of his good arm clutched at his other arm, desperate to alleviate some, if any of the throbbing, though it was to no avail. His body was sticky with sweat and grime, and though he knew the physiological purpose of sweating, he couldn't say it was doing much at all to cool him – he'd swear it only made everything that much worse.

He didn't even open his eyes as she stumbled her way over to him, gasping slightly at his obvious state of disarray. Looking back on it later, he might smirk at the memory; finding him sweaty, bloodied, and without a shirt couldn't have been what she'd expected. But for now, he was beyond fatigued. All he wanted was to get out of the 'Glades, get some Advil or perhaps something stronger, and get some water and some rest. But above all else, he wanted to find Calleigh…somehow, he knew he'd be able to do nothing else to heal himself until he knew she was safe and sound, and preferably in his arms.

Shaking away that heartbreaking train of thought, Eric forced himself to hear Yelina as she spoke, though her words seemed to come from far away. "You should've told me you needed a medic," she muttered scoldingly, pondering a quick run back to the Jeep for the first aid kit in the pocket behind the driver's seat. But even she had to admit that it would do Eric little good – the kit contained band-aids, mild antiseptic, small strips of gauze. Nothing sufficient enough for what appeared to be a serious injury. He'd wrapped his shirt around the wound, but the blood had soaked through even that, and Yelina would be willing to bet that it continued to bleed. He needed medical attention.

"It was the last thing on my mind," Eric replied weakly, alarming Yelina further with the fatigue in his voice. He took in a deep breath, ignoring the searing pain in his chest as it expanded.

To his relief, Yelina latched onto the meaning behind his words – when he'd called, he'd given her no details due to the risk of the call being intercepted. She knelt in front of him, bringing her eyes nearly level with his. "What happened?"

Lifting his good arm, Eric rubbed at his tired eyes. "They knew, that's what happened," he groaned, bitterness apparent in his voice. "They knew what we were planning, and there's only one way they could've known. The bastard…he was playing me all along."

Yelina was silent. If they'd known Eric's role, then long before that they'd had knowledge of her role in the operation. The scheme artists had been feeding her incorrect intel the entire time – had she any clue, she would've never placed Eric in the middle of the situation. Shifting slightly, she cleared her throat, urging Eric to continue. "What happened yesterday?"

Eric swallowed, letting his eyes close – it was growing more and more difficult to hold them open. "It all went to hell," he groaned, shaking his head. "All of the Russians – they weren't _all_ involved at the heist at the warehouse. They knew that once you realized they'd played you, the cops would be after them. Only the…_expendable_ ones were involved at the warehouse." He paused, swallowing again in an effort to moisten his cotton-like mouth. The words scratched at his throat, and within seconds he felt Yelina closing his fingers around a cool bottle.

Dragging his eyes open, he found his mind was so clouded that it took him a moment to perceive the bottle of water in his grasp. "Drink some," Yelina prompted, unscrewing the cap for him. "It'll help, a bit at least…"

Gratefully Eric lifted the bottle to his lips, downing half of the blessedly cold water in one gulp. It was a shock to his deprived system, but Yelina was right – it _did_ help. "When – when Sharova and I escaped, we took the back roads into the 'Glades. He was directing me, telling me the turns to take, which way to go…" He trailed off, anger flashing through his eyes. "They were waiting for us, and Sharova led me right to them.

"He tried to play dumb, act like he was just as shocked as I was. We turned around and fled, but he led me right to a dead end. And that's where they found us." Pausing, Eric took another deep gulp of water. "I should've realized it before, but I didn't know for sure until they left him alone in the car and chose solely to come after me." It was absurd, the sense of betrayal that washed over him with the anger. He'd _believed_ Sharova, despite his earlier reservations. He'd allowed himself to believe the man, his father, and in the end he'd only turned on him. It bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

Yelina shook her head. "If anybody should've known, it should've been me," she muttered, eyes downward. "I'm sorry I didn't see this coming, Eric."

Eric sighed. "They're smarter than we gave them credit for." Giving a half-shrug, he continued. "They followed me through the brush for miles – they just wouldn't give up. I had no choice – I took one of them out. Dragged him back through the 'Glades, trying to get away and leave the body somewhere where the team would find him at the same time. But everywhere I turned, it seemed like there were more of them. I've never fought so hard in my life."

Yelina's eyes drifted once more to the makeshift bandage at his arm. "You sustained that wound in the fight?" she asked, her thoughts leaping to the slim possibility of finding evidence in the wound; perhaps even DNA if it were hand-inflicted.

To her surprise, Eric gave a quiet chuckle, though Yelina could tell that the movement caused him a great deal of pain. "No," he said simply, shaking his head.

"Then what…?"

He smirked, squinting in the sunlight as he gazed at her. "You know what they say," he began, giving another half-shrug. "Hell hath no fury…and when that woman scorned happens to be the best shot in all of the South…well, this happens."

"Calleigh Duquesne did that?" Yelina's eyes widened.

Again, Eric smirked. "Yeah. Not like she had any choice, though – I _was_ fleeing the scene with a fugitive." His lips quirked, almost a grin. "She was pretty pissed before that too – I've always wondered if I'd ever make her mad enough that she'd shoot me." Yelina smirked, though it dropped as Eric became serious once more. "That's why I called you."

She didn't follow. "What?"

All trace of jocularity was gone from his dark eyes. "The Russians – they've got Calleigh."

"What?" Yelina repeated. It seemed an illogical jump to her – it made very little sense. "Why would they go after Calleigh?"

Eric closed his eyes, the ache in his heart echoing that in his head. "To get to me," he admitted, knowing he had no choice but to allow their up-to-now clandestine relationship out into the open. "She and I…"

His words trailed into silence, but it was enough for Yelina. "I see."

Eric nodded. Suddenly, he appeared just as frail as he had when Yelina had first approached him. "Before I called you, one of them called me. He's got her, and I don't – don't want to think of what he's doing to her." Eric gave an involuntary shudder, unable to suppress it.

He seemed so sure, and while Yelina wanted to help him, she needed to make sure he was certain. "Do you know for sure?" she asked quietly, laying a supportive hand on his knee. "Did you speak to her? Hear her? Do you have any definite proof that he does have her?"

Eric glared – didn't Yelina believe him? _She_ didn't hear the man on the other line; _she_ didn't hear the things he was capable of in his voice alone. "Yelina, the things he was saying –"

"I understand, Eric, but we have to be very, _very _sure before we do anything," Yelina interrupted softly. "I understand that Calleigh is important to you, but I also know that the Russians will know that too. With a single phone call, there's no way to tell whether or not they've really got her. How do you know that Calleigh isn't really at home worried about you? How do you know she isn't at work? How do you know –"

"I called her, Yelina," Eric all but growled. "After I called you, I tried to call her, just to make sure. She's not answering her cell or at home, just like _he_ told me she wouldn't." Pausing, Eric swallowed hard. "She's got a picture of us in her wallet – he described it over the phone to me. Said he'd found it in her wallet when he – when he took her at gunpoint last night."

Eric had visibly paled – it was clear to Yelina that this terrified him. "What else did he say?" she asked slowly.

"That she's – she's _his_ now," Eric replied after a moment, feeling the shudder rip through his body. "Said that they followed through on their threats, and that he'd make her life a living hell. And I believe him, Yelina. Knowing what these people are capable of…" Shaking his head, Eric forced back the nausea that threatened to overtake him. "He – he also said that I'd hear from him again soon. I just…I'm afraid of getting that call. I want to find her before that."

Yelina sighed, thinking for a moment. She understood Eric's predicament, could tell that he was caught in an impossible position. Certainly he wanted to find Calleigh, and Yelina did too…if in fact she _was_ actually in danger. Someone needed to keep a level head, though, and Eric was not able to do that himself. Not only did he have an emotional connection to Calleigh, but he was also physically and mentally drained, and with the pain Yelina was certain he was in, it was a wonder he was thinking straight to begin with. "You're not going to like this, I know," she began slowly. "But for now, we wait for that call."

Eric opened his mouth to protest, anger flashing once more in his eyes, but Yelina cut him off. "We wait for him to contact you again. In the meantime, we're going to get you to the ER and get that wound checked out. And then we're going to get you back to MDPD and set your cell up to trace the call if he does call back." For a long moment, she simply met his eyes, sympathetic to the resistance within, but knowing there was a protocol to follow. "We're going to do this the right way, okay?"

He wasn't happy with the idea, but what leverage did Eric really have to protest? "Fine," he grumbled, trying his hardest to quell the accusations within him. His heart ached at the idea that he was going to sit back and allow this man – or were there more? Eric didn't know, nor did he want to think about it – to have his way with Calleigh.

It tore at him to allow Yelina to help him up and lead him to her Jeep, knowing that she was taking him to the ER, and not to where the Russians were holding Calleigh hostage. It killed him to know that he was going to have to wait hours, maybe even days for the next phone call before any action could be taken. But most of all what ate at him was the guilt. It was his fault that Calleigh was in danger; his fault that he might never see her alive again.

If something were to happen to Calleigh while he was off getting stitches in his arm, as opposed to looking for her, Eric knew he would never forgive himself.


	6. six

_**/6/**_

She'd found herself torn between two extremes.

For one, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and disappear beneath the scalding spray from the shower, feeling the heat burn her skin and wash away everything that clung to her. Guilt, regret, the feel of her captor's hands that left her skin crawling. She knew it would take until the hot water ran out before she could even pretend to feel clean again.

But there was an inherent fear in that, and Calleigh couldn't help but shiver beneath the blistering spray. The longer she stayed, the longer she remained exposed. And with every moment that passed, the chance that Vadim would return grew more and more. Calleigh might not know too much about her current predicament beyond her location and her clear lack of power in the situation, but the one thing she _did_ know was that when Vadim came back, she did _not_ still want to be in the shower.

It was that realization that left her shivering beneath the hot spray, and without much hesitation, she quickly rinsed herself off, despite her fears gleaning just a small ounce of relief in the familiarity of her own shampoo. Though she wouldn't admit it aloud, especially not to her captor, the familiar vanilla scent granted her a bit of strength – it wasn't enough to repair her resolve by any means, but it was enough to keep her from completely falling apart beneath the scalding water.

Within moments she was shutting off the water, shivering as she pushed the curtain aside. Immediately Calleigh shivered, and instinctively she reached for the large, hotel-issue towel on the rack above the toilet. She wrapped it quickly around her body, reveling in its warmth as she dried off. It did little, however, to calm the goosebumps on her skin, but then again, Calleigh doubted they were from the feeling of cold anyway. No, those arose solely from dread and – dare she think it? – fear.

She _was_ afraid. Terrified; honestly terrified. And it was taking every last reserve of strength she had to keep from showing that.

Calleigh Duquesne was _not_ stupid. She saw quite clearly the way Vadim looked at her – greedily, hungrily. He might've taken her as part of a greater scheme against Eric, but that scheme was not what he had in mind every time his dark eyes raked over her body. She _knew_ what Vadim truly had in mind, and that, along with the knowledge that he'd likely often gotten what he wanted in the end twisted her stomach into convoluted knots of nausea.

Those vividly disturbing thoughts driving her, she toweled quickly and, without bothering to waste time just yet brushing out her hair, she reached out for her clothes – if there was one thing she could control, it was just how long she remained exposed, vulnerable. But her arm stopped in mid-reach, and as her eyes scanned the countertop, Calleigh couldn't stop a strangled gasp from escaping her lips.

In the shower, she hadn't heard the door open again, hadn't perceived any sign that Vadim might've reentered the tiny bathroom, but clearly he had. Calleigh felt the blood drain from her face as she realized just what had changed, what had gone missing. Gone from the counter were her blouse and her slacks, and a quick survey of the bathroom – as well the unmistakable flip of her stomach – proved that they were nowhere to be found. Her undergarments remained, she realized with a tiny sigh of relief – it was but fleeting, though, as her eyes alighted upon the fabric that had replaced the clothing she'd been wearing earlier.

It was folded neatly atop the counter, the pristine, fluffy white fabric all but beckoning her, longing to comfort her as it did on the rare nights she allowed herself to indulge in a bubble bath. The fabric always felt so addictively soft against her skin, but to see it here now dropped a cold block of nausea into the pit of her stomach. It was _her_ robe, even more evidence that he'd trespassed in her domain, her sanctuary.

It was no secret how Eric felt about that robe – seeing her in it always left his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body, his gaze lingering particularly along the hemline, where fluffy white cotton gave way to soft, silky skin just below mid-thigh. Thinking about it drew a shiver through her body, a longing for the nights they would cuddle together on the couch, sharing kisses as he teasingly drew his fingertips along her toned calves, ghosting along the inside of her knee and trailing leisurely upward, keeping a pace designed to slowly drive her out of her mind.

And then, without her permission, those teasing, tantalizing fingers no longer belonged to Eric. Suddenly, she saw Seth. Vadim. One of them, both of them, she didn't really know. The fear gripped her with a tenacity she couldn't shake, dizzying her to the point where she nearly stumbled to the floor. Shaking her head, she forced the thoughts away, her hands reaching for what little bit of covering he had left her.

Very quickly she slipped into her panties and her bra, shuddering deeply at the thought of _him_ seeing them, let alone touching them. The visions flooded her mind, technicolor images that Calleigh had to literally shake her head again to clear. Determinedly she clasped her fingers in the fabric of her robe and quickly wrapped it around her shoulders, tying the belt around her middle but frowning as she realized it would do little good – not when the fluffy fabric stopped abruptly just below mid-thigh. Calleigh shuddered – Vadim wouldn't have even taken the robe if not for that small detail, she knew.

Speaking of Vadim…Calleigh frowned again. There was far too little noise outside the bathroom, now that she thought about it. In fact, it was all but silent – the quiet hum of the air conditioner was all that she could hear. Had Vadim left her alone? Calleigh began to wonder, after a few more moments of careful listening rewarded her with the same deafening silence.

Experimentally, Calleigh slowly twisted the knob, her heart leaping slightly as it gave easily in her hands. The slight glimmer of hope spread quickly through her, not suppressed by the dread, the warnings that echoed in the back of her mind. What if he was on the other side, waiting for her to do exactly this? She could be walking right into his trap, but even the knowledge of that wasn't enough to fight back the hope, something she'd lacked completely since long before he'd made his presence known in the back of her car – no, Calleigh had been without hope since her eyes had locked with Eric's from across the firefight.

And again she saw them – those deep, dark eyes of betrayal. Her stomach lurched as for the first time, Calleigh truly realized the horrific truth – that could very well be the last image she ever had of him. She could never get to apologize…she might never get to tell him the truth. That, however, was a truth that she wasn't comfortable admitting to herself just yet, and so she forced it from her mind, concentrating her thoughts solely on the door.

But that was merely a dead end. Despite the knob turning freely in her hand, the door would not budge – clearly, Vadim had been a step ahead of her, just as he'd been the entire time. The door locked from the inside, but that was no use to her as it became apparent that Vadim had somehow barricaded her in. He might've left the room for the time being, but not without making perfectly sure that Calleigh could not do the same.

It hit her abruptly – she was utterly, completely powerless. Loudly she bit out a frustrated curse, slamming the palm of her hand against the door. As the fleeting hope she'd felt before poured out of her, she couldn't help but feel her eyes prickling with tears – tears of frustration, anger, hopelessness. With every minute that passed, her outlook appeared all the more bleak, and there was very little Calleigh could do to convince herself otherwise. She was trapped in a hotel bathroom, unable to escape until her captor returned. Her captor…the term left her shivering, swallowing hard as the memories that came to mind were not all recent.

Before yesterday, the word captor would've brought one face to her mind. After all, his was the face she'd been seeing in nightmares for over a year now; his was the face that stopped her in her tracks when a particular case detail occasionally caught her off-guard. Instead of dealing, she had shoved it all away, and now she was paying for it. The nightmares were no longer confined to her slumber now – she was reliving them in real time.

On unsteady feet, Calleigh slowly padded her way to the mirror, reaching out a hand to wipe away the steam. Briefly her lip quirked as her CSI mind entertained the idea of leaving a message, much as she had done before. But what good would that do now? With all of Vadim's assertions that he wanted to make her feel at home, as comfortable as possible – Calleigh shuddered – she doubted that he planned on moving her anytime soon, if at all. And she knew he'd left a special request at the front desk – _"No housekeeping, please," he'd said, flashing a grin to Calleigh as he spoke on the phone. "We're, ah, late sleepers." –_ so there was no hope of the housekeeping staff stumbling inadvertently on a message.

Pushing the idea from her mind, Calleigh sighed, scrutinizing her appearance in the mirror. She looked _dreadful._ Her eyes were dull and hollow, no life in the emerald irises. The only sign of life at all was the glassy appearance, the redness that rimmed her eyes. Dark shadows played beneath them, a clear indication of the toll that this ordeal was taking on her. Her skin had always been on the lighter side, but even Calleigh couldn't deny that the ghastly pallor within her cheeks now was startling – she looked like a ghost. And her hair…despite it still being damp, it was still completely drab, lifeless. Calleigh lifted a shaky hand, fingers gently twirling a lock of blonde and biting her lip to keep it from quivering. She wasn't exactly the textbook definition of "girly girl," by any means, but there was a certain amount of pride she'd taken in her hair. It rocked her to the core to realize that, in such a _very_ short time, Vadim had managed to coax the life out of the once vibrant locks, out of _her. _

And yet, he kept asserting that she was beautiful, gorgeous, sexy…Calleigh could hear the words as clearly as though he were speaking to her now; she could feel his touch and see his face, the devious glint in his eyes. And without the implicit permission of her mind, Calleigh found herself tumbling into a seemingly endless abyss. The bathroom dissolved around her, leaving her surrounded by darkness, darkness that too dissolved into a faint scattering of light as the dread grew within her stomach…

_She tumbled finally onto the bed, the breath knocked right from her lungs. Stars danced in her vision as she slowly righted herself, feeling the panic submerge her as she realized where she was. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness – she was in the warehouse, that warehouse. There hadn't been a bed there before, though, had there?_

_But Calleigh didn't have the time to linger on that thought, as suddenly she heard the bed give a sickening creak as it dipped behind her. The presence drew near to her, whispering her name, and Calleigh gave a shudder. She wasn't restrained, but though her mind screamed at her to make a quick escape, Calleigh found that her limbs just wouldn't respond. And then he reached out to her, the chill from his touch delving straight into Calleigh's veins like ice water. _

_His fingertips slithered over her jaw, every millimeter churning the acid in her stomach. "I see exactly what that boy saw in you," Vadim breathed, moving his body ever closer to hers on the small bed. With a force she couldn't quite ignore, Vadim's fingers slowly turned her head toward him, locking dark, devious brown with closely guarded green. "Such a feisty, sexy little thing…"_

_To Calleigh's dismay, he leaned closer, so close that his breath scorched her skin as he whispered directly to her ear. "Just a bit longer until I make you mine…"_

_The words disgusted her, left her skin crawling viciously. Summoning the reserves of strength that had frozen somewhere deep inside of her, Calleigh shoved him away with a shaky hand, forcibly turning her head away from him. Her efforts though were rewarded with a low chuckle, different from the voice that had spoken first._

_"I think she wants me first," drawled the voice, and Calleigh gave a strangled gasp as she recognized him immediately. Seth McAdams, and as soon as she matched the name to his face, he grinned deviously, clearly pleased that she remembered. "Where's that Southern hospitality, hmm?" he breathed, a hungry, possessive look in his eyes as he cupped her cheek, caressing her soft skin. "You never did give me that chance to get to know you a little better…"_

_Calleigh swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she felt the room begin a slow, nauseating spin around her, around them. Finding her legs, she attempted to stand only to find herself quickly brought back to the bed. "You – you're not going to…" she murmured, the weakness of her voice humiliating to her._

_Seth snickered. "Not going to what, hmm?" he teased, gathering her hair in his hands. Calleigh froze as he leaned in, her heart pounding as she felt his breath against her throat. "Do this?" Before Calleigh could react, Seth closed his mouth over the hollow of her throat, slowly sucking at her skin in a way that left Calleigh feeling so incredibly violated. But he wasn't done there. Pulling back to meet her eyes, he grinned again as he continued. "Or maybe this?" he whispered, much quieter as his hand slipped beneath her robe, tracing the curve of her hip._

_On her other side, Vadim gave a disapproving cluck. "You don't get to have all the fun, now," he said, frowning. _

_Again, Seth merely grinned. "I'm not stopping you from doing anything at all. You want it, you gotta take it."_

_Vadim's eyes flashed dangerously as they raked over Calleigh's vulnerable form. "Oh, I'm going to take, all right," he growled. Abruptly he fisted his fingers in Calleigh's hair, grinning at the yelp of surprise she gave as he tugged her head back. "And this bitch is gonna enjoy every minute of it," he breathed, closing his lips roughly over her earlobe. Calleigh winced as he tugged none too gently at it, but she clamped her mouth shut, determined not to cry out again. _

_Suddenly, the warehouse lurched violently, leaving Calleigh's head spinning. She could hear the blood rushing through her veins, the unsteady, erratic gushing in her ears adding to her confusion, her terror. She couldn't control herself; there was no way she was going to find her strength against one of them, but both of them? There was no way, and Calleigh found herself gasping in terror. Her eyes blurred, but whether from tears or from lack of oxygen, she couldn't be sure. Her mind was slowly locking down, leaving her only with blurred images, mere flashes of perception._

_Mere flashes against which she was powerless to defend…_

_Seth yanking at the belt of her robe before forcing her helplessly onto her back…_

_Vadim, his eyes full of hunger and greed, daring Calleigh to try and stop him as his touch poisoned her skin…_

_Seth, so close to her that she could feel the nauseating lust pouring off of him…_

_Vadim, his mouth on her skin as she lay defenseless and now bound to the bed; his hands questing freely, fingers digging into the skin of her inner thigh…the unmistakable look in his eyes that left no question to his intentions, no doubt that he was going to get everything he wanted…_

_His – in her mind, his face grew blurred and Calleigh couldn't ascertain which one it was – rough, calloused hands shoving her thighs apart, ignoring her futile efforts to struggle against him, to push him away from her. It was never going to be enough – he was far stronger, far more powerful, and his eyes were much too greedy…_

_He was just too strong, and she too weak…_

_A victim…_

Calleigh's head was spinning, her mind racing with images she couldn't quell down, couldn't fight back. She couldn't breathe, could barely see. Points of light and dark obscured her vision, brought on no doubt by the adrenaline rush of fear and the inability to draw in the necessity of oxygen. She couldn't tamp down the images spinning through her mind, assaulting her with a fury she couldn't overcome. Her cheeks grew suddenly flushed; her entire body suddenly felt engulfed by fire, burning her from the inside out. Beads of sweat formed along her forehead as her breath came in quick, inefficient gasps. Against her ribcage, her heart pounded so quickly, so powerfully that it left her chest aching; clutching to it wildly with her hands made no difference.

Her body trembled and her stomach quivered nauseatingly – quivered, and then lurched violently. It'd been fighting her resolve for hours, but finally the nausea had won. Control not her own, Calleigh collapsed painfully to her knees, ignoring the sharp burst of agony that shot through her body. Gripping the side of the toilet with a white-knuckled grasp, she had no choice but to allow what little breakfast she'd choked down earlier to force its way back up. Predictably it gave way to little more than acid; acid that set her throat aflame as dry heaves took over.

Once the nausea finally abated after what felt like an eternity to Calleigh, she sat back against the cool porcelain of the tub, drawing her knees in close to her body, wrapping her arms around them. The more she tried to control it, though, the harder her body seemed to shake. Her nerves were shot, that much was clear.

In the aftermath, Calleigh couldn't help but find herself dwelling on the haunting vision that had just ensnared her mind. Normally she was better at compartmentalizing – after all, that was how she'd dealt with her original abduction. She thought she'd eradicated it from her mind completely with time, but as easily as Seth McAdams had come back to haunt her, it was clear that her patented technique had failed her.

Just the memory of the vision – _hallucination?_ She couldn't help but wonder – left her stomach protesting angrily again. If possible, she drew her knees in closer to her, her eyes defiantly on the opposite wall as she struggled to control her breathing. It was all but impossible, though – just as soon as she thought she'd succeeded, her mind's eye would catch a glimpse of those eyes, those _greedy_ eyes, and it would unravel any control she might've grasped.

And how, just _how_ exactly, had both Vadim and Seth bullied their way into her thoughts? And together? Calleigh was almost one hundred percent certain that the two antagonists had no idea the other even existed. So where was the logic in her vision? How could they possibly be working together for the same end in her mind? How could they interact with each other as they…Calleigh shook her head defiantly, ignoring the wave of vertigo produced by the abrupt motion. Clearly filing away her memories hadn't worked so well before, but what other choice did she have right now? She couldn't face that, not now, preferably not ever.

The bleakness of her predicament had never seemed more blinding to her. She was being held captive by a vindictive member of the Russian mob, one who looked at her as though he couldn't want to sink his teeth into her. There was no telling whether or not she would actually make it out of this alive…or whether or not she would _want_ to make it out alive.

And then there was Eric…

Her heart clenched violently as his face filled her mind. But this time, it was not the betrayal in his eyes on which she lingered. It was his smile, that brilliant, knee-weakening smile that never failed to awaken the butterflies in Calleigh's stomach. _Her_ smile, she liked to refer to it – secretly, of course. It was a different smile than what he gave anyone else; a different smile than the one he'd given her before they'd become them. _That_ smile…and those eyes, the look she'd found within them after the very first time she'd kissed him – it was as though in that moment, she'd finally made all of his dreams come true. It was trite, but no other description seemed to fit.

Calleigh felt her heart break as her thoughts continued to drift. The pain was akin to the heartache that Jake had left her with – other than Eric, Jake had been the only person she'd allowed close enough to her heart to really have the power to break it. She'd sworn over a decade ago never to subject herself to that kind of heartache ever again, and what frightened her was the realization of just how little power she had over that. Jake had swooped back into her life, and then Eric had worked his own way in, and in the end, she'd been left with back-to-back heartbreaks. Jake, for a second time, and now Eric, after she'd fallen so irrevocably for him...

The agony was debilitating, and Calleigh couldn't help but feel her eyes water. The difference with Eric was that Jake had made her wiser; he'd unwittingly taught her to guard her heart at all times. The first time had nearly killed her, and the second…though Eric had been by her side as a friend at the time, she'd spent months all out of sorts trying to recover, trying to pick up the pieces. And even when Eric had finally convinced her to take that leap with him, there'd still been part of her that remained unsure. She was jaded and she hadn't been quick to allow Eric into her heart, but he was unendingly patient with her – and that had melted her in the end.

_"Do you trust me?" he whispered, cupping her chin with his palm. She met his eyes, knowing the fear was ever-present within the emerald orbs – she'd never been this open to Eric before. A certain reverence slowly grew in his dark eyes, and Calleigh knew immediately that Eric realized that; realized the ramifications of it. _

_He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going to hurt you," he asserted, his lips still brushing against her skin. Calleigh shivered, her eyes fluttering shut. "I've waited too long for you to ever want to hurt you." He'd stopped short of asserting that he wasn't Jake Berkeley – he knew that the other man had deeply bruised her heart. But even though the words weren't spoken, Calleigh could see them in his eyes as he pulled back from her. And there was something, just something that made her believe. _

And yet, he'd hurt her anyway. Calleigh was unsurprised to feel the trickling of tears along her cheeks; she did nothing to stop them from falling. The secret phone calls, the clandestine meetings with his father, the lies he'd told her, the defensiveness he'd adopted when she'd finally pieced together the truth…it was much too reminiscent to what she'd gone through with Jake, and yet it was incredibly different. Jake had never promised her perfection; Jake had never pretended their relationship had the possibility of being a fairytale romance. Eric had promised her too much, only to backpedal and seemingly rip it all away from her for a man he'd known for barely a few months. And that was the knife through her freshly-bandaged heart, the one that Eric himself had helped put back together. It was _excruciating_.

Abruptly, Calleigh was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Lifting her hands, she quickly wiped at her cheeks, hoping to destroy all evidence of her tears. She forced her expression back to her patented poker face, offering Vadim little more than a stony glare as he swooped quickly into the bathroom.

He was unperturbed. He merely offered a smile that reawakened the nausea Calleigh had only barely managed to fight off. "Hello, sweet pea," he cooed, his eyes gleaming appreciatively at the sight of her in the robe he'd procured for her. "I see you found my present for you – I found that draped over the foot of your bed when I collected your other things," he continued, and Calleigh swallowed hard again at the thought of this man in her bedroom. He'd been in her bedroom, he'd slipped back into the bathroom while she'd been showering, his greedy eyes and fingers had come in direct contact with the lacy fabric that the robe now covered. She felt entirely violated, reduced to little more than a weak, helpless victim.

The fight, however, remained evident in her eyes, and Vadim gave a sly grin. She was feisty, and he liked that. "You know, comforts of home, and all," he continued, gesturing lightly. "And since I _do_ want to do everything in my power to make sure you are comfortable…"

Calleigh narrowed her eyes, tugging the cottony fabric of the robe tighter around her body as discreetly as she possibly could. It did very little to cover her completely, though, and with a rush of anger, she realized that Vadim likely had realized that when he'd picked it up. "You _could_ give me back my clothes," she growled, gritting her teeth.

Vadim snickered. "I could." Casually he leaned against the doorframe, gazing amusedly down at her. "Or you could be happy that I left you anything at all, princess." He paused, licking his lips in a way that left Calleigh's skin crawling. "As good as you look in that robe, I sure wouldn't mind having you in much…_much_ less."

"You're not going to _have_ me at all," Calleigh snapped, her voice much more defiant than she felt. Inside, she was little more than a nervous wreck.

To her dismay, Vadim only grinned at her cold words, spoken in a tone that might've put fear into the heart of anyone else – not him, though, clearly. "That feisty side only makes you even sexier," he breathed, his eyes tracing appreciatively over her bare calves. "I knew when I first laid eyes on you that you'd be a challenge…" His eyes flickered dangerously. "And damn, I love a challenge."

Ignoring Calleigh's shudder of disgust, Vadim strode purposefully toward the mirror, leaning close as though examining his reflection. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he grinned. "It's too bad we can't go out in public," he murmured, mostly to himself. "Imagine how much better I'd look with a pretty little thing like you attached to my arm…we'd be the talk of the town."

He didn't give Calleigh the opportunity to reply. Quickly he whipped around to face her once more, a would-be apologetic expression on his face – it might've worked, if his lips hadn't quirked deviously upward. "I _do_ apologize for leaving you locked up in here," he simpered, gazing idly down at her. "Turns out I had a bit of an, ah, emergency come up. Bottom line – never trust another human being, sweetheart," he advised grimly, giving a slow shake of his head. "No matter how much you think you can expect of them, nobody will _ever_ do what you need better than you yourself can do it."

There was a quick flash of something indecipherable in his dark eyes, something that sparked a jolt of fear within Calleigh. What exactly _had_ he gone to take care of? And if he was mentioning anything about it to her, did that mean it had to do with Eric? Or worse, Eric's body?

Biting hard at the inside of her cheek, Calleigh forced the fears away – if anything was going to pull her through this, it would be her strength. That was something she couldn't afford to let falter. "Ironic," she scoffed, wishing the confidence in her voice had been enough to effectively mask the tremble within. "Just this morning you were telling me to be _more_ trusting," she bit out, the challenge clear in her emerald eyes.

Vadim only smirked, a patronizing glimmer in his eyes that left Calleigh seething. "That, my dear, is _completely_ different," he said smoothly, waving a dismissive hand. "You…have no choice in the matter. Trust me, and maybe you'll live to see the sun again. Maybe you'll even get to have some _fun_ along the way," he added, the suggestive rumble in his voice churning Calleigh's stomach. She narrowed her eyes, meeting his gaze unwaveringly as he continued. "Don't trust me, and you die. Simple as that."

He could see the wheels turning through Calleigh's emerald eyes, and he smirked, cutting off her train of thought before she could even speak. "And before you try to tell me _again_ that some things are worse than death, why don't you take a moment to think about your _boyfriend_," he suggested, a devious grin on his lips. "Think before you decide not to trust me. Think of what your death would do to him…"

Calleigh tensed, drawing her knees in closer to her body as Vadim suddenly kneeled, his eyes level with hers. "Think what it would do to him to be haunted by the realization that he did this to you, that he couldn't save you. Think of what it would do to him to find you in pieces, spread out over the course of his life. Maybe he'll find a hand here, your heart there…" He paused dramatically, slowly drawing the pad of his ring finger along the skin of her bare calf. "A perfect leg elsewhere…"

Calleigh clenched her teeth, though she made no effort to reply. She was fearful of opening her mouth, knowing she could very well give away how much that visual disturbed her. Maybe Eric had hurt her, but she still…she wasn't going to dwell on the thought of doing the same to him.

Vadim stood again, straightening his expensive attire before slowly extending a hand to Calleigh. "Now that I've given you some food for thought," he smirked – he'd seen her eyes darken as he spoke. He was affecting her more than she let on, and he was loving it. "It's time to get you back into bed."

Calleigh narrowed her eyes, her gaze as deadly as bullets toward his outstretched hand. "I'm quite comfortable right here, but thanks," she retorted coldly, tilting her head in defiance.

Vadim only laughed. "If that were true, sweetheart, you wouldn't be shivering," he said quietly, withdrawing his hand with a sigh after another moment of stalemate. "You know, sometimes you're feisty, but other times you're just damn _stubborn._ I bet that's why your _boyfriend," _he emphasized with exaggerated air-quotes, "doesn't give a damn where you are right now."

Calleigh flinched, and Vadim took the opportunity to reach out to her. Roughly he grasped her shoulders, ignoring her cry of protest as he hauled her none-too-gently to her feet. "I told you, _Calleigh_," he breathed, his voice tying a knot in Calleigh's stomach. "You have to trust me, or else."

"You – you can't _demand_ trust," Calleigh sneered, mentally chastising herself for the wobble in her voice.

Vadim rolled his eyes, kicking the door fully open. Calleigh stiffened, but that wasn't enough to deter him. He shoved her out of the bathroom, his hands not leaving her until she was once more seated on the bed. Calleigh yelped as he grasp her wrist roughly enough to bruise, but Vadim made no indication that he'd even heard as he once more closed the loop of her handcuffs around her wrist. "You're about to learn that I can demand _whatever I want _from you," he growled. Calleigh flinched – it was the first time he'd really lost his calm with her, but rather than act further on it, he swiftly turned away and illuminated the bedside lamp – only then did Calleigh realize that daylight was fading quickly. He'd left her locked in the bathroom with her haunting thoughts all afternoon.

His back was now to her, but Calleigh kept her eyes fixed upon him, unwilling to let her guard down. She had the sneaking suspicion that he was planning something, but what? From the way he had looked at her, she had an idea, but Calleigh refused to entertain the possibility.

She could hear the rhythmic tapping of keys and knew immediately what he was looking at in his hands – he was texting someone. Calleigh couldn't help but allow herself a slight smirk – it seemed not even the Russian mob was immune to the advent of text messaging. But her amusement quickly faded as she began to wonder who it was. Had Vadim received a text, perhaps letting him know to begin the next stage of the plan, whatever that might be? Could it have been something to do with Eric? Or the emergency he'd spoken of earlier?

She didn't have long to wonder before Vadim was snapping his phone shut, turning to her with an odd gleam in his eyes. "Looks like my dear friends are already making things hard for your cop buddies," he smirked, tossing the phone absently into the room's only armchair. "I just love a wild goose chase, don't you honey?"

The endearment was dripping with venomous sarcasm, and Calleigh tightened her lips, thinning them into a rigid line. She met his eyes unwaveringly, but as she noticed his dark eyes flash, she knew immediately that had been a mistake, even if it was a moment before she realized why. Her heart skipped a violent beat as he tilted his head, carefully analyzing her face in the light, particularly her eyes.

And then her heart completely stopped as he smiled and crossed the short distance to the bed. Calleigh stiffened as he slowly lowered himself down beside her. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he simpered, slowly brushing her hair back from her face. The silky strands glided effortlessly through his fingers, and Vadim grinned, particularly as she lifted a hand to swat his away. In the light, his gaze had fallen upon her puffy eyes, and he'd known immediately that she'd been crying.

Calleigh closed her eyes, turning her head away from him. She might be restrained, she might be powerless, but she didn't have to look at him. Vadim only chuckled, and Calleigh couldn't help but jump as his roughened palm found its way to her thigh. "Or maybe," he continued, leaning closer to her, "I didn't upset you. Aww, are you still crying over your boyfriend? Because if that's the case, then I can make you feel better…"

The implication in his words was not lost on Calleigh. Her breath caught in her throat as he squeezed her thigh; she swallowed hard, opening her mouth but not finding her voice. Suddenly, the face of Seth McAdams flashed before her eyes, unlocking the chest in which she'd tried to seal away the memories that haunted her earlier. And Calleigh knew right then that there was little chance of this ending well – if she couldn't compartmentalize, she couldn't keep her head in the present. And if she couldn't do that…she left the door wide open for Vadim. It wasn't about strength or weakness anymore; it was about the demons in her head.

And there were many.

"Looks like I hit the nail on the head," Vadim whispered, taking Calleigh's silence and her stiffening countenance as affirmation. He squeezed her thigh again, just to feel her tense beneath his touch. When he spoke again, his voice was nearly inaudible, but that didn't matter – he was close enough that his voice fed directly into Calleigh's ear. "Why don't you let me…help you forget?" he suggested, his lips brushing against her jaw. "I promise you'll forget all about Delektorsky by the time I'm done with you…"

Calleigh swallowed hard, feeling again sickened by having him so close to her…the possibility of having him even _closer_ than he already was. _Skin against skin_…the image pushed itself into her head without her permission, and abruptly she jerked her head away from him – she'd rather give herself whiplash than last another second with his breath against her skin. She breathed in deeply, ignoring the swirl of acid in her stomach as his scent filled her nose. "You – you're the one I keep trying to forget," she snapped, her words wavering a bit more than she would've liked.

"Oh really?" Vadim smirked, and Calleigh felt a fleeting second of relief as his hand left her thigh. It was gone again, though, replaced by an even deeper sense of dread as she felt his cold, rough fingers slowly grasp her chin. She stiffened, trying to resist, but it was no use – he was always going to be stronger than her. Slowly he forced her head to turn, bringing her face to face with him again. "You only say that now because…" he gave a dramatic pause, leisurely licking his lips. "Because you haven't _had_ me yet. After I get done with you, well," he grinned deviously. "Let's just say you'll be _begging_ me for more…"

Calleigh growled in disgust. "I do _not_ beg," she snarled. "And I'm not about to start for you."

Vadim snickered. "Oh, trust me, princess, we're about to find out _exactly_ just what you'll do for me…" Before Calleigh could protest, Vadim closed the remaining distance between them, capturing the lobe of her ear between his lips. She let out a gasp of surprise; it was followed closely by an all-consuming shudder, and though she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, Calleigh couldn't help but find herself inundated with the same images that had assaulted her in the bathroom. And somehow, memory melded with reality to form a hybrid in her mind, and suddenly Calleigh _did_ find herself fighting off both Vadim and Seth; one physically, the other mentally. But in her state of mind, they became one and the same.

And it _petrified_ her. If she had no control over her mind, then what _could_ she control?

Certainly not what happened to her. She was cuffed to the bed and all but locked within her nightmares – she was completely at Vadim's mercy. And if the look in his eyes was any indication, she knew exactly what he wanted…

_She knew what was coming, knew what Seth wanted. He might've wanted her dead in the end; he might've wanted her to clean up the scene of the murder before that, but right now, there was no question as to what he wanted._

_He wanted her. And Calleigh could feel his eyes slowly stripping away the clothing that covered her, eagerly envisioning the body hidden beneath. He wanted his hands on her, tracing the contours of her curves, feeling her muscles tense beneath his touch. He wanted to mark her as his; wanted to make sure she knew he had her…make sure she'd never forget._

_His eyes grew hungrier by the second, and Calleigh felt her skin crawl frantically. It was blindingly apparent to her; she had no escape. And with Tommy gone, she was alone with him. _

She was alone with Vadim; no one was going to save her. Calleigh was a woman who _never_ needed to be saved; she was never helpless, never without an escape. Never weak.

_First time for everything._

She lifted a hand, shoving blindly at Vadim's chest. "Leave me the hell alone," she bit out, though she was unsure to whom she spoke – memory Seth, reality Vadim, or both. His lips released her earlobe with a quiet pop, and Vadim grinned, quickly capturing her hand with his much larger, much stronger one.

To her horror, he slowly brought her hand to his lips. "Look at you, reaching out for me," he murmured, loving the way Calleigh's eyes widened as he ignored her fingertips, ignored the palm of her hand and instead went straight for the inside of her wrist. His lips fell upon the sensitive skin there, scratching, almost burning as he deposited a slow kiss, his eyes never leaving hers. Her face paled even more than it already had, and Vadim chuckled against the smooth skin, knowing that Calleigh knew where he was going. "Your boyfriend does that, doesn't he? When you both think…" he paused for another kiss, "that nobody is watching."

That was what he needed to break her - a tainted gesture of intimacy, something innocently seductive that she shared with Eric alone. It sickened her, and before she could even think to stop it, Calleigh felt the panic settle in.

_She knew what he was going to do._

_And she was powerless to stop him._

She clenched the fingers of her hand into a fist, attempting to halt the consuming quivering that began in her fingers and quickly ensnared the rest of her body. The fear was suddenly overwhelming, and what scared her the most was the total lack of her control. Maybe…if only she had the use of her other hand…

As it was, she had neither hand. One was cuffed, the other held by him.

Her heart skipped several beats, leaving her with a painful flutter in her chest as he leaned closer, slowly latching his mouth to her throat. Calleigh struggled, attempting to wriggle away from him, though what it resulted in only terrified her more. Vadim smirked, ignoring her protests as he maneuvered both of their bodies, pushing her down until her back hit the mattress. "Time for some fun, sweet pea," he murmured, diverting momentarily into a bit of Russian that while Calleigh couldn't translate, it had her stomach churning.

She turned her head to the side as his mouth traveled up her throat, approaching her face. "No…" she choked out, knowing in that moment that the greatest fear in her vision was coming true. Seth might not be in the room with her and Vadim, but the end was the same. And it was that end that left her gasping for breath and dizzied by the racing of her heartbeat.

_She was going to be a victim. _

_Weak._

_Helpless._

_Powerless. _

_A victim…_

Again she bit out a protest, though Vadim only chuckled. "No? Don't stop?" he breathed, teasing free the belt of her robe. With one hand restrained by the cuffs and the other securely in his grasp, Calleigh had no way to stop him. "Don't worry, princess," he cooed. "I have no plans of stopping anytime soon." He paused, relishing Calleigh's quiet, partially concealed whimper. "Not until I get what I want."

His hand skated along her taut stomach, and he grinned victoriously as his touch struck gold. His fingers curled slowly in the lacy band of her panties as he watched her eyes widen in fear. "And what I want," he growled, tugging at the lace, "is _you_. You are _mine._"

Calleigh struggled, struggled _hard,_ but it was little use without her hands. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think straight, couldn't see anything but the outcome that had haunted her imagination in the bathroom. Her heart pounded so frantically that she feared it might give out, especially when Vadim forced his mouth against hers. She whimpered, tried to pull away, but he was just too strong.

And then, her mind shut down. There was no more thought, only deafening instinct directing her to get him off of her anyway she possibly could; directing her not to let him have his way with her. He was hovering over her, restraining her, forcing her mouth against his and clasping his grimy hands in the only barrier that separated him…and then it hit Calleigh. She needed to get him off of her, and though she was sure there would be dire consequences, Calleigh was certain nothing could be worse than letting him violate her like this, letting him turn her into the victims she'd so often sworn never to let herself become.

Focusing her attention away from his forceful mouth, his roving hands, Calleigh opened her watering eyes, staring directly at the ceiling above. She counted to three in her head, then shakily lifted her leg from the bed. With another quick, calming count in her mind, she put all of her remaining strength behind her knee, shoving it _forcefully_ into Vadim's groin.

Vadim sputtered, his breath leaving him as agony bloomed within him. Reflexively he rolled off of Calleigh, barely catching himself before he could tumble to the floor below. "You – you stupid _bitch!"_ he bit out, the venom apparent in his eyes and voice. Calleigh remained silent, breathing hard as she pulled herself back together as best she could while shaking harder than ever before. She gathered the material of her robe, wrapping it around her and retying it one-handedly, almost so tightly that she couldn't breathe. She didn't care, though. She pulled herself back to a sitting position, drawing near to the headboard against which she was restrained and curling her body as tightly as possible – the best defense mechanism she could currently think of.

Vadim's eyes were murderous, and Calleigh feared for a moment the consequences. That fear gave way to confusion as he simply limped toward the armchair, muttering dangerously to himself in Russian. Calleigh watched him move about, her eyes still wide as she worried about what might come next. By the time he turned back to her, there was a devious smirk on his lips and his cell phone again in his hand. "You should _not_ have done that," he muttered, his fingers speedily dialing a number as he strode back to the bed, trying to hide the limp in his steps. His face was tough, but there was no denying it – he was _still_ in agony, and for that, both the blonde and her boyfriend were going to pay.

_Dearly._

Placing the phone to his ear, he waited until he heard the telltale ringing on the other end before pressing the speakerphone button. "If you say a word," he whispered dangerously, his eyes gleaming, "I swear to God, I'll kill you."

Calleigh's eyes followed the phone in his hand, her confusion lasting for only a moment longer. And then, the recipient of the call answered, sending Calleigh's heart leaping into her throat.

"Delko."

Despite her predicament, Calleigh couldn't help the flood of relief that washed over her – Eric was alive. Every time Vadim had mentioned him, it'd been with the present tense as though he were still alive, but this was the first _real _indication that Calleigh had gotten. He was alive, and he didn't sound near death at all.

The look on her face didn't go unseen by Vadim. He smirked and reached out to her, ignoring the way her body tensed as he stroked his fingers through her hair once more. His glee increased as Eric called out again, a sudden urgency in the other man's voice. Vadim paused only for a second, throwing Calleigh another glance of absolute warning before opening his mouth.

"You know, _Delektorsky_," he sneered, mocking the Russian name that Eric had been born into, despite the Americanization his substitute father had insisted upon. "Your blonde vixen here is more fun than I expected." He paused, tightening his fingers in Calleigh's hair, and before she could prepare, he yanked _hard_ at the strands, hoping it inflicted just as much agony as she'd inflicted upon him. Calleigh yelped loudly, both in surprise and in pain, eliciting an angry growl from the other end of the phone.

Vadim, however, was unfazed, grinning evilly as he continued. "I never, _ever_ would've pegged your Calleigh for a screamer in bed."


	7. seven

_**/7/**_

His heart was pounding against his chest at an almost inhuman pace by the time Eric burst through one of the side doors, his body slamming into the ruthless humidity with a force that would've stolen his breath if he weren't already unable to catch it. His head was spinning violently, and he'd known if he didn't somehow make it out of that lab, Eric was going to lose it.

Standing at the top of the exterior staircase, he was still seeing red as he clutched roughly at the railing, his knuckles white. God help that man if Eric _ever_ got a hold of him…right now, Eric wanted nothing more than to rip the other man from limb to limb. And if he were before him now, Eric wasn't sure that anybody would be able to stop him.

He had never, ever been so angry in his life. It was one thing for the Russians to play their games with him…that he could handle. Perhaps not gracefully, as he'd shown over the past few months, but at least he could handle that. But when they turned their greedy, manipulative eyes upon Calleigh…that was when it became a whole different matter.

The agonizing sound of her startled cry echoed repeatedly in his ears, submerging his heart into the iciest water every time he heard it. The ice water coursed painfully through his veins, but the pain of that was nothing compared to the fiery anger that consumed him.

_"Your blonde vixen here is more fun than I expected…"_

_"I never, ever would've pegged her for a screamer in bed."_

It'd been all he could take – Eric knew he was likely to rip something to shreds. Instead, he'd settled for slamming his phone angrily against the layout table, ignoring the startled expressions of his coworkers as he quickly stalked out of the room in search of relief. The taunting words of Calleigh's captor rang in his ears, over and over, a torturous cadence that would haunt his dreams were he ever to sleep again. God only knew what the man had done to her…

The thought left him shuddering, suddenly sickened. His knees all but buckled, and only his tight grip on the railing kept him on his feet. The Russians had wanted to get to him, mentally and emotionally more so than physically, and they were succeeding. Nothing had ever rattled him as deeply as this, and Eric had the sinking feeling that it was only just beginning.

Closing his eyes, he attempted to place the voice of her captor. He'd spent enough time working on the other side to know some of them, and that was something that would come in handy when it came time to bring those few to justice, but for now, all of the voices were running together. He couldn't differentiate between any of them; they all carried the same rough, gravelly snarl that had breathed the words that left Eric's blood boiling.

He _knew_ how the Russians worked. He'd been on the inside long enough to witness enough of that for himself, and Calleigh's captor was _not_ exaggerating. If he wanted Calleigh, he would _have_ her. If he wanted her dead, she would be in just a snap of his fingers. If he wanted to play with her; if he wanted to torture her, he would, and just for his own pleasure. Calleigh was, after all, beautiful, and her captor would have to be blind not to see that and want to have a little fun…

Eric's stomach lurched violently. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the railing in an attempt to stall the nausea. Calleigh, _his_ Calleigh, was stuck in the claws of some maniacal Russian mobster, and Eric had no idea how to help her. There was no evidence as to where she might be, nothing. He was powerless to help her.

_But you weren't powerless to keep this from happening._

The voice forced its way unwelcomed into Eric's head, filling him with the deepest guilt that left the nausea churning his stomach, burning him from the inside out. This _was_ all irrefutably and completely his fault. If he hadn't been so adamant about finding the truth about his parentage, he would've never found the information that had put his life and his career in jeopardy. It was because of that information that he'd been asked to work his way further into the circle. He'd forged a connection that no one else had with the mob, and he'd had no choice but to use that connection. And he'd thought he hadn't been noticed.

But apparently he had, and it hadn't been made clear to him until that afternoon at the warehouse. He'd been forced to flee for his life, and as a result, the Russians had given up the chase, only to go after an unsuspecting Calleigh. It _was_ his fault that they had her, and he knew he'd never forgive himself if something, _anything_, happened to her.

He'd always been warned as a kid of that certain trite saying – _curiosity kills the cat. _

In this case, however, it was Calleigh who was suffering because of his curiosity. And in the beginning, that was all it had been – innocent curiosity. Eric had wanted the truth; he'd felt he deserved the truth. Now, it seemed as though he was getting _everything_ he deserved. But not Calleigh, he thought, narrowing his eyes in disgust. She deserved _none_ of this.

He'd tried so desperately to keep her out of this. Despite the agonizing secrets, the lies he regretted before they were even past his lips, he'd managed to convince himself that it was all for Calleigh's safety. It was all for _their_ safety, their future.

He'd known that the lies were hurting her; Eric could see that in her eyes, and the very presence of that hurt tore his heart into shreds. The one thing that Eric promised himself he would never do was hurt Calleigh in any way, and throughout the course of the last few months, he'd easily broken that promise on a daily basis, if not more.

Clenching his teeth, Eric growled lightly under his breath. "I'm gonna _kill_ you, you son of a bitch."

He bit roughly at the inside of his cheek, forcing his thoughts back to the present, to the work that needed to be done. Once they'd arrived from the Everglades, Yelina had quickly smoothed the entire situation over with the rest of the team, leaving Eric only to answer a few sporadic questions – he was sure more would come once all was said and done, though. Right now, any attention that anyone could spare was focused on the one most important task – finding Calleigh.

Closing his eyes, Eric sighed heavily, running through the phone conversation in his head for easily the hundredth time, trying to pick out any subtle nuances he might've missed. But everything all just seemed to come back to the startled cry he'd heard her give – blessed evidence that she was still alive, but a frightening implication that she might not be for long. Eric shuddered involuntarily, feeling his stomach give yet another violent lurch. The thought of any other man with his hands on Calleigh was enough to sicken him, but when those hands were part of the Russian mob…the pain nearly ripped him apart.

To his dismay, he vaguely heard the door behind him, but Eric made no effort to straighten up. For a moment, he wished whoever it was would get the hint and leave him alone, but as his nose picked up on the light scent of floral perfume – his stomach gave another funny jolt – he knew that would merely remain a wish. Horatio and Wolfe might've walked away, but Natalia likely would not – unfortunately, she knew him too well.

Sure enough, she approached him slowly, stopping beside him with a gentle brush against his elbow. "You alright?"

He knew the question wasn't directed at his well-being as a whole; he knew Natalia referred to the way he'd rushed from the layout room, in desperate search of relief. But despite the soft breeze from the nearby sea that cooled his skin, the answer to both questions remained a defiant _no._ He exhaled heavily, opening his eyes only to stare through blurred vision at the ground a couple of stories below. "I won't be alright until this guy has a bullet through his heart," he breathed murderously, his knuckles whitened from the grip he held on the railing. "And I don't give a damn who hears that."

Natalia smirked briefly – to be honest, she felt the same. Anybody who could take Calleigh Duquesne down without her putting up a fight was by definition terrifying – she wanted him off the streets too, though obviously for slightly different reasons than Eric. "I know you don't, but still, you might want to be careful…you're not exactly on Stetler's best side right now. Don't make it worse."

"I don't think that's because of what I did," Eric replied, finally lifting his head. His neck ached, and he twisted it slightly in an effort to loosen it a bit; however, it did little good. "I think that's more because of Yelina…"

There was an amusement in his voice, though merely fleeting it was, and Natalia couldn't quite place it. She could sense that there was some kind of history there that she wasn't exactly privy to, so rather than question it, she simply cleared her throat and brought up the real reason why she'd come to find him. "Uh, you left your phone in the layout room…Travers has it now. If they call back, he'll get a trace on the number."

A fresh stab of guilt cut through him – why hadn't he thought of that? Were this any other case, a trace would've been his first idea, especially when it was so very likely that his antagonist would call back to torment him further. "I – I didn't even think of that…" he mumbled.

"Hey," Natalia cut in, again gently touching his elbow. "Don't you dare try to feel guilt over that. Your mind was with Calleigh. And it's fine, too," she continued, cutting Eric off as he opened his mouth to protest. "We took care of it – that's what a team is for. Besides, you needed some air," she finished softly, sympathizing with him.

Eric shook his head, swallowing roughly. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly; he made no attempt to hide the emotion that consumed him. "What I really, _really_ need is some good news…"

Natalia smiled softly – that, at least, was something she could offer him. "Then come with me," she said, gesturing toward the doorway. The confusion was plain in his eyes as he turned to her, though it quickly became determination as she clarified. "The GPS in Calleigh's car was disabled, just like we expected. But we found her phone – we've got a location."

"Do you think she's there, though?" Eric asked, already moving to the doorway.

Natalia frowned – she'd wondered that too. "Whether she is or not, this is the first break we've gotten. You're riding with me," she added, the look in her eyes making it clear that under no uncertain terms was Eric to drive alone. He was much too close to this; the emotions could leave him far more injured than he already was. Her eyes strayed to the bandage on his upper arm – she still wished he would've stayed longer at the ER, but she knew that wasn't likely to happen. He'd allowed a nurse to bandage it, but what he really needed was stitches, even Natalia knew that. But convincing Eric of that was like…it would be like trying to convince Calleigh of the same thing.

With a sigh, she followed him back into the lab, her strides twice as long as normal – Eric was a man on a mission, and Natalia wasn't about to try and slow him down. She grabbed both of their kits – even Eric's, despite the fact that he shouldn't be working any scene related to this case – he was just much too close.

However, she couldn't help but smirk slightly as she followed him to the Hummer, despite the gravity of the situation. He wouldn't stay longer than he deemed necessary at the ER, he shouldn't be at the lab, he shouldn't be involved in the case…and yet, he was right there in the middle of it.

Eric Delko could be just as stubborn as Calleigh herself sometimes.

..

An hour and forty-five minutes later, Natalia was nursing the beginnings of her own headache. The GPS in Calleigh's phone had led them to her car, dismantled and abandoned in a remote area of the Everglades. The tires had been taken, as well as the stereo system and other parts that had rendered it unsalvageable. It was scratched and dented almost beyond recognition, and Natalia couldn't help but flinch as she dusted for prints – Calleigh might not have been one to flaunt her material possessions, but Natalia knew she'd loved this car.

The sound of tires on gravel caught her ears, and she climbed her way back out of the wreck that had been Calleigh's car. Two more Hummers were approaching – Horatio and Ryan, she assumed with relief. Discarding her gloves, Natalia brushed the back of her hand across her forehead before she gingerly made her way toward them. "Hey. I've been dusting for prints," she began as she stopped before the two men, bypassing a further greeting than that. "Lifted a few, but I'm not sure we're going to get any other than Calleigh's – these guys are _good_. I'd even bet they stopped by a carwash before dismantling the whole thing…"

Ryan tilted his head. "But they left the phone in the car?"

Natalia shrugged. "I'd be willing to bet they did that on purpose, just to throw us off. Make us waste time out here while they've got Calleigh, doing God only knows what to her…"

The anger was apparent in her voice, and Ryan bit at the inside of his cheek. Unsure of what else to say, he glanced over her shoulder, searching for their other coworker. "Where's Eric?"

Frowning, Natalia merely shrugged. "I wouldn't let him work on the car…I was afraid…"

"Probably the best decision, Ms. Boa Vista," Horatio said quietly, and Natalia no longer had to wonder just how much of the team knew about Calleigh and Eric's relationship. "Maybe you should check on him…"

"I wanted to follow him, but I didn't want to leave the car alone either," she replied, glancing off in the direction that Eric had gone.

"We've got it," Ryan said immediately, surprising Natalia with an uncharacteristically gentle touch to her elbow. "If you're worried about him, go find him."

Natalia glanced briefly to Horatio, catching his nod before he began making his way toward the abandoned car. Turning back to Ryan, she smiled softly, though it failed to meet her eyes. "Thanks…" she murmured, the gratitude clear in her eyes. "I really _am_ worried about him…"

"He's never been faced with something like this before," Ryan reasoned, setting his kit on the ground. Opening it, he pulled out a pair of gloves, efficiently outfitting his hands with them. "I'm not even sure he should _be_ here though, to be honest."

Natalia scoffed. "He's not going to agree to stand back and watch. And if he did, I would be questioning his relationship with her."

Ryan pursed his lips, nodding slightly. "I guess…" he murmured, though still he wasn't quite convinced. Meeting Natalia's eyes again, he cocked his head in the direction that Natalia continued glancing worriedly toward. "Go find him," he said quietly. "We'll take care of this."

"Thanks, Ryan," she repeated again, turning to walk away. "I owe you one."

Ryan smirked. "I'll remember that," he teased good-naturedly, making his way toward the car.

Natalia lifted a dismissive hand in response, already making her way carefully off the beaten path. It didn't take long for her to find him, and her heart broke at the sense of defeat in his posture. He simply stood, staring into space. "Eric?"

He lifted a hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "I thought this – I thought it would be _something,"_ he growled, kicking angrily at the ground. His fists were clenched at his side, and Natalia frowned as she noticed what the fingers of his left hand curled around. And suddenly, she felt oh so very cruel for what she knew she had to do.

"It _is_ something," she murmured, wishing she could summon more optimism into her voice. But it was all but impossible; she couldn't deny her own sense of hopelessness. "It's more than we had," she added, her eyes on his left hand. Eric didn't answer, and she sighed heavily, shakily retrieving a napkin from her pocket – it wasn't an evidence bag, but it would do until she made it back to her kit. "I hate to ask you this, but, um…"

She trailed off, and Eric turned his head sharply toward her. "What?"

"Calleigh's phone," she murmured, nodding her head toward his hand. "You're, uh, gonna have to give me that." The expressions that flitted through Eric's eyes went from confusion – he likely hadn't realized he'd still been holding it – to stricken with pain, and Natalia couldn't deny the guilt that gnawed at her. Protocol was so cruel, but it had to be followed. "I'm sorry, Eric, but there could be trace…we need to get everything we can get. You know that."

It wasn't her fault, but Natalia couldn't help but hate herself just a little as she watched the flicker of agony move again through Eric's dark eyes. With considerable effort, he lifted his arm toward Natalia's outstretched hand, placing the phone gingerly on the napkin in her hand. "Of course…" he murmured deflatedly.

Just the tone of his voice was enough to break Natalia's heart into tiny, jagged shards. His heartache was so very palpable, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to him. They hadn't been together for very long at all, but it had been long enough for her to learn to read him. And what he needed was some kind of comfort, some reassurance that all was not lost. "We're gonna get him, Eric," she murmured, gently laying a hand on his back. He'd been there for her so many times through their friendship, but no matter how she looked at it, the soothing circles she slowly rubbed over his back seemed so miniscule in comparison. But what else could she do? She felt so helpless – they all did, she knew. "We're gonna get her back."

Eric set his jaw, choosing not to voice the doubts rushing through his head. He'd had such high hopes when Natalia had told him they'd found her phone by GPS, despite the nagging voice that had told him not to get too excited just yet. He had, though. He'd placed _all_ of his hope into this single lead, and it had only led them to the abandoned shell of what used to be her car.

Almost as soon as she'd begun, Natalia's hand paused against Eric's back. The more she thought about it, the more useless it seemed – there was only one thing that would soothe Eric, and it certainly wasn't the circles she'd begun tracing along his back. He needed Calleigh- needed her back, needed her safe. And until she was safe and in his arms, Eric would be able to concentrate on nothing else but bringing her back to his arms.

And that, Natalia realized with a frown, could prove to be a problem, especially if Eric needed to make a judgment call. Again she sighed, this time rather defeatedly. Their backs were against the wall; their choices were limited, and while Natalia could see that, Eric she knew would have a harder time of it. "You know, protocol dictates that you recuse yourself from this," she murmured, dropping her hand completely from his back. "Conflict of interest…"

She sensed immediately the way that Eric tensed, and though her eyes were frontward, she could easily imagine the disgruntled flash in his eyes; the angry way he bit at the inside of his cheek. And she understood it all too well; what she'd suggested he do was all but impossible. He didn't speak, and Natalia swallowed hard, taking the opportunity to finish her point – she hadn't really expected him to agree. "I want you to know that…that I've got your back on this. But you've got to work with me, okay?"

Eric scoffed, his tongue flicking over parched lips before he spoke, his voice rough and dry, almost tortured. "What are you saying?"

The hint of sarcasm was present in his voice – he knew _exactly_ what she was saying, not that Natalia had ever doubted that. "You know what I'm saying," she pointed out quietly, eliciting a quiet huff from her companion. "You have _got_ to play by the rules here. I'm on your side – I mean, I was right there in the midst of everything when Anya was kidnapped –"

"That was different."

The sharp accusation stung, but under the circumstances, Natalia easily let it go. "Not that different. If you look at the very basics, I would've done _anything_ to get Anya back – and I _know_ that you are willing to do the same for Calleigh. Maybe the situations are different, but what I would've done is no different than what you would do." She paused, allowing her words to settle in. "I couldn't have imagined being sidelined while Anya was missing. Horatio understood that. _You_ understood that. But Stetler…hell, even Wolfe – if you don't play this cleanly, you _will_ find yourself on the outside without a way back in. And I know you can't handle that."

Lifting a hand, Eric rubbed tiredly at his eyes, and Natalia couldn't deny in that moment just how much older he appeared. He was weary; he felt as though the world were completely against him, and everything that happened only cemented that belief home for him. He couldn't seem to catch a break, and Natalia felt so dearly for him – she didn't know a person with a kinder heart than Eric; he didn't deserve all of this pain, this heartache. "Eric…"

"I don't know that I can handle _any_ of this," he admitted quietly, his hardened eyes straight ahead. "I've been working this job for ten years, and nothing has _ever_ felt this much like a dead end before."

The sheer agony in his voice was undeniable, and Natalia brought her arm forward, laying her hand on his arm. He flinched, but didn't draw away, and Natalia offered a subtle squeeze of reassurance. "You can't think like that, Eric. Once you start, it's just a downward spiral. This…this isn't a dead end, okay? It's just something we have to work our way through, starting with what little bit of evidence we can find."

"There isn't a lot," Eric said flatly, crossing his arms. Between the exhaustion, the fear, and the sheer tiring anger, the stress was wearing heavily upon him. His head was pounding, utterly _pounding,_ but he forced himself to ignore it the best he could, focusing even more on finding Calleigh. His headache could dissipate with rest, but an hour's time was plenty for Calleigh's Russian captor to get what he wanted, and then some. And if all that happened while he was nursing a headache, Eric knew he would never forgive himself. He wasn't sure he would ever forgive himself at all. Despite the pain, he shook his head roughly, swallowing hard in an effort to summon more than a hoarse ghost of his voice. "I've worked plenty of – of kidnapping cases," he said quietly, unable to stop them from flashing before his eyes. All of the cases that ended well all had a certain _something_, something that, no matter how hard Eric looked, seemed to be missing from this one. "Be honest with me," he continued, finally meeting Natalia's eyes. And then there was really no need to ask – he could see the answer so plainly in her eyes. Pursing his lips, he swallowed hard again, fighting the growing constriction in his throat. "This – this doesn't look good, does it?"

Natalia sighed heavily. That wasn't a question she ever liked to answer, but at least when it was someone she _didn't_ work with, someone who didn't know the job, she could offer a bit more hope. But Eric…he knew the case as well as she did, if not better – he knew who had her, knew what they were capable of. "No," she admitted grudgingly. "It doesn't."

Eric gave a clipped nod, once more diverting his eyes. It broke Natalia's heart to see him like this – struggling to hold it together, but finding it utterly impossible when the woman he'd loved for years could be undergoing the unimaginable in her forced captivity. "Calleigh's got one thing going for her, though," Natalia said quickly, knowing she needed to offer him _something_.

His eyes met hers again, but only briefly, and Natalia could tell with a sharp pang to her heart that he didn't quite believe her. "Yeah?"

Knowing it did little good, Natalia offered what she could – a small smile. "She's _Calleigh._ You know that." Eric's only response was a quick furrowing of his brow – despite the intent of her words, he was far from comforted. "She's _so_ strong, Eric," she continued, offering another squeeze to his upper arm. "We know that. And what's more, she's made it through something like this before – hell, she pretty much saved herself too!"

He knew he should've found the comforting truth in her words, but short of having Calleigh safely in his arms, Eric knew there was little that could truly offer him relief. Closing his eyes, he fought back a shudder – deep inside, he _knew_ Natalia was right. Calleigh _was_ damn smart, and it had been her ingenious clues that had led the team to her when McAdams had taken her. But of course she'd held it together throughout the ordeal…it was the aftermath that petrified Eric.

..

_For nearly two hours, she hadn't moved, and consequently, neither had Eric. He sat beside her on her couch, the same one they'd shared so many times before, but under better circumstances. If anyone were to ask him what word best described her right now as she sat beside him, the first word to come to Eric's mind would be one that he'd never used in relation to her before – fragile. _

_She sat slightly sideways, her body lightly angled toward him, her head resting gently on the back cushion. At her quiet request, Eric had brought her the fleece blanket draped over the foot of her bed – it was the first time he'd ever been in her bedroom, and he'd so wished it'd been under different circumstances. She'd draped the material about her shoulders, effectively wrapping her small body in the blanket, and all Eric wanted to do was reach out and pull her into his arms, knowing that simple blanket couldn't possibly offer her the comfort she needed after today._

_Her eyes were downward, seemingly very interested in the couch itself, but Eric knew she was avoiding his eyes. _

_He wished more than anything that she wouldn't. _

_Helpless, he fell back on the one suggestion he'd made already, though he already knew the answer. "Can I make you something to eat?" he asked softly, absently drawing his fingertips over her arm through the fabric of the blanket._

_Predictably, Calleigh shook her head. It was the same explanation she gave in the car earlier, when he'd asked if she wanted to pick something up to eat before, and Eric still couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of shock that she would admit what she surely considering weakness – it wasn't, not in his eyes, but he knew Calleigh didn't see it that way. "I don't really know that I could keep it down."_

_Eric nodded in understanding, shifting closer to her on the couch. "Stomach still unsettled?" he asked gently, even though she had never put it in those exact words. _

_With Calleigh, he'd long ago discovered that the best way to get inside her emotions was through code – after all, she kept her walls so high around her; she wasn't going to put what she felt directly into words, especially if those words weaved together to show a perceived weakness. When it came to emotions, what she actually said was rarely what she really meant, and with time and attention, Eric had slowly begun to learn her language; he liked to think that these days, he could read her better than anyone._

_She sighed softly, offering a halfhearted shrug. "Something like that…"_

_Eric nodded again, fixing Calleigh with a penetrating yet soothing gaze, the same one he'd given her as he'd admitted his own distress to her earlier. It had seemed to break through the shell then; he only hoped it would now. If he were honest though, Eric didn't want to hear what she had gone through; he didn't want to even imagine the fear, the torment. But his concern for her would outweigh his own wishes every single time – it wouldn't be healthy for her to keep it all to herself; it wouldn't be good for her to shut down and ignore it, in typical Calleigh fashion. "If you want to talk," he began cautiously, watching Calleigh close her eyes briefly at his words. "You know I'm always here, right?"_

_Still, she didn't meet his eyes, but God how Eric wished she would. "I – I hope you know you don't have to stay," she said softly in response, discreetly tugging the blanket tighter around her body. Her efforts to keep the motion unseen were futile though, for Eric picked up on it immediately."I'll be okay, I promise."_

_She was fighting back tremors, Eric realized with a jolt to his heart. He'd picked up on the slight quiver in her voice, but the way she tugged at the blanket set it in stone for him. Suddenly, he hated Seth McAdams more than he thought it was possible to ever hate another person. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he moved his body closer to hers on the couch, angling his body slightly toward hers and throwing all concept of personal space out the window – she didn't protest, though, and if she had, Eric would've been happy to respect that, especially since it would mean he'd gotten a reaction out of her at all. _

_But still there was nothing, and that worried Eric. He leaned close, his lips mere inches from her ear as he spoke. "Don't make me that promise," he whispered, and finally, the strange request elicited a response from her. She turned her head, eyes widening only momentarily at the surprising proximity to him; she hadn't realized he'd moved. The shock in her eyes quickly gave way to confusion at his statement, and to her further surprise, Eric reached out to her, brushing his knuckles gently over her cheek before his palm opened and fully cupped her face. "You're always okay, always fine," he explained quietly, and while the touch to her cheek had been meant as a comfort to her, it also served the dual purpose of keeping her facing him. "That scares me…"_

_And it did; it truly did. It had become a reflexive reply for her; no matter what the scenario, she was fine. He knew that couldn't be true all the time, and Eric wasn't sure what frightened him most – the idea that she _could_ be fine with any of this, or the fact that whenever she said it, everybody believed her._

_Well, right now, he certainly wasn't believing her. "And I'm _not_ going anywhere," he added sincerely, tenderly stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb._

_Calleigh gave a deep sigh. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her body seemed to sink further into the cushions, into the blanket. She looked so very small, and Eric was afraid he would have to physically restrain himself from reaching out to her._

_When she spoke, her voice trembled more than what she was able to control. "I just…" she began, only to trail helplessly into silence again. She didn't know how to put this into words, this foreign emotion – fear. Though it hadn't shown on her face or in her actions, she'd been utterly terrified. The more time that Seth held her captive, the more she lost hope of ever making it out alive. She'd believed her clues were useless, but she'd left them anyway in sheer desperation. The fear had been all-consuming; Calleigh had known with every fiber of her being that the next time that Eric saw her, she'd be lying on a cold table in the autopsy theater. And that broke her heart._

_She knew how he felt about her; it wasn't a secret. And despite the distance she'd tried to keep because of that – her mind kept showing her flashes of the last relationships she'd attempted with people she'd worked with; Jake, Hagen, even Peter, they had all turned sour in their own way, and she didn't want that for someone who'd proven to be her closest friend through the years. Losing that terrified her. But today, she had been faced with the idea of losing that, as well as the idea of losing what could be. And it was that which truly chilled her blood. It pained her dearly to think of Eric gazing down at her, cold and lifeless. She'd witnessed the betrayal in his eyes on the night she'd left the lab with Jake; she'd recognized his jealousy not too much later at knowing that she'd jetted away to Antigua with the other man. She'd felt the way he'd held her in the back of the ambulance on that fateful morning that a simple brunch had become an officer-involved-shooting – he'd held her almost as if he were afraid to let go. There was no question in her mind as to how deep his feelings ran for her, and he'd again made that unmistakably clear today. It would break his heart to lose her, and just that very realization broke Calleigh's own heart. _

_But how could she put that into words? She couldn't even tell him that she felt the same, that her own feelings for him were becoming harder and harder to write off as friendship. Even after she could've been killed today, she just couldn't find the words._

_There was just too much rushing through her mind, and suddenly Calleigh shivered, faced with the alternative that she'd feared even more than death. In Seth's game, she had been little more than a pawn, and a pretty one at that. If he didn't kill her, he was going to leave her wishing he _had_ killed her. And even now, she trembled at the memory. _

_If it had done anything, though, it had opened her eyes. In Eric's dark gaze, she could see the silent, desperate plea for her to let him in, and for the first time, she truly wanted to. The idea that he had been so very rattled over her kidnapping left her wanting to offer the same comfort that he was currently offering her. She wanted to reach out to him; she wanted to let him in. But how? She couldn't even think of what happened without flinching; she was far too used to pushing anything like that away, and as a result, she had very little experience in this._

_Still, she tried again, knowing she appeared the perfect picture of hopelessness; knowing and hating it. She shrugged, shaking her head just slightly. "I don't – I don't know…" _

_The quiet murmur was enough for Eric to drop his hand from her cheek and immediately wrap his arm around her shoulders instead. She stiffened instinctively, but that didn't deter him from attempting to draw her closer. He could sense the danger, perhaps before even she herself could – after all, he'd spent too many years watching her to not know the signs. If the ever increasing tremble in her body didn't tip him off, then the almost fierce nibbling at her lip and the defiant closing of her eyes would've told him all he needed to know. The dam was about to break, and Eric had the distinct feeling that it had been a long time coming, if the struggle she faced to hold it back was any indication. "Cal…" he murmured, reaching out to her with the arm not around her shoulders. Tenderly he caught a stray strand of blonde, tucking it slowly behind her ear, allowing his touch to linger in a silent message that he hoped she understood – he was there and wasn't going anywhere. _

_And it was the tenderness of such a motion that finally did it. Calleigh had been so close today to never feeling that, to never hearing his voice again…she'd been so close to losing it all, and to think, she'd been reluctant to let herself feel that in the first place. Feeling the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes, she finally relented to Eric's attempts to draw her near. "I – I can't…" she mumbled shakily, merely a second before the tears finally broke free. _

_She sniffled, and Eric's heart shattered as she turned her head toward him and buried her beautiful face against the crook of his neck. His arms enveloped her fully then, tightening as she began to shake with quiet, reluctant sobs. He knew it was killing her to let them out, but he was afraid it would kill her _not_ to let them out. He could do little more than hold her, rocking her gently and whispering softly into her hair as she cried, her tears falling against his skin._

_It was the first time he'd ever seen her break before, and Eric couldn't deny feeling more than just a bit useless. What could he really do? Seeing her cry broke his heart; he wanted nothing more than to take the pain away – if he could feel it instead of Calleigh, he would make that trade in a heartbeat. _

_But he couldn't do that – it tore him apart that he couldn't. All he could do now was hold her while the block of ice in his stomach grew, giving him the distinct feeling that simply holding her wasn't doing much good at all. _

_.._

She'd fallen asleep in his arms that night, only to awaken a couple hours later from a vivid nightmare. And that had frightened Eric more than the tears. He wasn't used to seeing her so vulnerable…and it wasn't something he _ever_ wanted to get used to. And he knew more than anything else, it wasn't something that Calleigh herself wanted to ever live through again, and yet, her only other choice now was to _not_ live. Give up.

The first time, Eric knew Calleigh wouldn't even think of that. But this time, a second time, he wasn't so sure. He had complete faith in her abilities, her strength, but that wasn't what terrified him. He was terrified that she would fall apart emotionally.

And that was the fear that infused his voice when he spoke again. "You didn't – you didn't stay with her that night, 'Talia," Eric murmured, a chill racing down his spine at the memory. Natalia was silent, waiting for him to continue, and Eric shook his head, struggling for the words he needed. "You didn't see…" Pausing, he cleared his throat, searching for another avenue. His words as they spilled from his lips sounded so very private all of a sudden, and the last thing Eric wanted right now was to betray Calleigh's trust by opening her personal life any more than necessary.

Instead, he turned to his own recent past. "You know, I still hesitate every single time I have to reach for my gun," he admitted quietly, briefly meeting Natalia's eyes. "Because of the – the shooting. I think about everything that could go wrong – what if I hit somebody I shouldn't? What if I miss completely? What if I get hit again before I can even react? It affects my judgment and my reaction time, every single time. It's like I have these flashbacks every time I even _think_ about reaching for my own gun. And it hasn't really gotten any better, and Calleigh…" He paused, shaking his head again. "I _know_ it goes through her mind every time she goes alone to a call-out, even though she doesn't say anything. And now, this has happened again, because of me, and I just…I don't know if she can make it out of this one. I'm honestly afraid."

Natalia bit at her lip, eyes toward Eric even though he refused to meet hers. She couldn't say anything to soothe him about Calleigh, but… "You can't take the blame for this, Eric," she insisted softly. "You weren't the one waiting at her car with a gun."

"Maybe not," Eric replied with a scoff. "But I may as well have been. The only reason they went after her was to get to me – they don't have _anything_ against her, but everything against me. I don't know, I guess they found out somehow that we were…"

He trailed off, though Natalia knew how the sentence ended. "They paid a photographer to get pictures of us, anything they could use against us."

"Among other things," Eric added scornfully. "These guys aren't amateurs at all. Their rap sheets aren't filled with petty, simple crimes. They're organized; they do what they want, and oftentimes they're never caught because anybody standing in their way ends up dead. And if they do get caught, they end up slipping through the cracks." He paused, letting out a breath. "They're so smart that it's terrifying. They've always been one step ahead of us. And I can't – I can't imagine what they're gonna do to Cal, just to get at me. I can't imagine what they've already done…I can't live with myself if they – if that sorry excuse for a human being, if he –" He trailed into silence, unable to speak the words. The clenched fists at his sides, however, said everything that his lips could not.

With a vehement shake of his head, Eric pulled away from Natalia's touch – he didn't deserve to be comforted. "I should've _never_ tried to play that game," he muttered, taking a few steps forward. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing the headache growing behind them would simply disappear. "I was supposed to be playing them, and instead I was the one who got played. They _knew_ I was playing both sides from the very beginning."

Natalia furrowed her brow, not quite following. "So why come after Calleigh when they were chasing after you and Sharova? That's the part I don't get."

"It's simple," Eric said, turning to face her. "Revenge. The Russians, they deal in torture, physical, mental, whatever. And somehow, they figured out that this was the easiest way to exploit me." He frowned, a grim darkness in his eyes. "Killing me accomplishes absolutely nothing. But if they…if they take away what means the most to me…"

He trailed off again, though the gravity of his words lingered heavily in the space between them. "Calleigh…" Natalia murmured softly, eliciting a terse nod from her somber companion.

"If they kill me, I can't suffer…" Eric finished softly.

It was utterly heartbreaking to listen to him, and Natalia sighed heavily, feeling her own exhaustion weigh upon her. "We're not going to let them kill her either," she murmured, turning her eyes to the phone she still held. An idea came to her; more than anything, she knew she needed to get Eric out of the Everglades. It wasn't doing him any good to be out here; she could practically see the thoughts racing through his head, could feel the guilt and anger permeating from him. She knew he needed to feel he was accomplishing _something_, but it was that something that eluded him – there was very little that could be done at this point, and as deeply as Eric cared for Calleigh, Natalia knew that fact was eating him alive.

Lightly she tapped his elbow, waiting for him to meet her eyes before speaking. "Come back to the lab with me."

As she'd expected, Eric shook his head. "Her car's here; we need to be here."

Natalia offered a slight smile. "I got some prints from the car – some of them were in the back, so there's a possibility that they aren't Calleigh's. Plus," she continued, gesturing to the phone, "we need to process this. Ryan and Horatio have things covered here; I could really use your help."

Eric's lips twitched sardonically. "You told me I should step back."

"I believe what I told you was that you needed to be careful," Natalia corrected, lifting a brow.

"Yeah. That's why you wouldn't let me help with her car." He _knew_ it wasn't Natalia's fault, but he couldn't stop the anger from seeping into his words.

If she were Ryan, she would've taken the perceived bait. But she wasn't Ryan, and she understood Eric's frustration all too well. She wasn't going to argue with him; she wasn't going to rile him up more than he already was. She was, and would be, on his side until the end. "That was different," she said simply, the look in her eyes letting him know that it wasn't open for discussion. "I'm asking for your help now, Eric. If I had concerns about that, I wouldn't. Trust me here, okay?"

He held her gaze for a moment before he nodded. "Let's go back to the lab," he said simply, and with careful steps, he began to follow her back to the Hummer. The words of optimism she'd offered him throughout the course of the last few hours echoed through his head, replacing the words of Calleigh's captor. With every step he repeated them silently, wishing he could take a firmer grasp upon them.

_It's not a dead end._

_Calleigh's strong. _

_We're going to find her. _

There was only one little detail that Eric couldn't overlook, even as he repeated the words over and over in his head. Despite what she'd heard, what she'd seen, Natalia didn't know firsthand everything that these Russians were capable of.

And for that reason, Eric wasn't quite sure he believed her.


	8. eight

_**/8/**_

_Calleigh Duquesne was many, many different things. _

_With a gun in her hands, she was a formidable opponent. The way her eyes went cold as she gripped the weapon without the slightest hint of a tremble; the way her voice went just as icy as she made it clear to a suspect who had dared to oppose her – she meant business, every single time. It was no wonder that the sight of her chilled demeanor coupled with that demanding voice was enough to have any nearly any suspect dropping his own gun in surrender. Those eyes, that voice – they were never meant for him, but that didn't matter – just their very presence was enough to chill Eric's own blood. Formidable, indeed. _

_With her eyes to a scope, magnifying the striations on a particular bullet, she was incredibly astute. Her eyes were so good and her mind so bright that it seemed even in the most hopeless cases, she was able to match a bullet to a particular gun. And it wasn't often that she was willing to stop until she did find a match. Giving up was simply not in Calleigh's vocabulary._

_With her head always held high, her stride always confident, Calleigh was unquestionably independent. She never gave the impression that she was anything less. Even when tired or feeling less than spectacular, Calleigh never faltered; never backed down. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. She was strong; she never needed anyone to hold her hand. _

_She was professional, perceptive, and extremely persistent. There was a determination within every fiber of her being, one that had blindsided Eric during several of their first meetings, but which he'd quickly come to expect, and then, hoped to see. Only rarely did he ever see that determination falter, and he could say with absolute certainty that those moments left him terrified. _

_It was all of these powerful adjectives that left Eric smiling in amusement on this Sunday morning, late enough that the sunlight was streaming freely through the curtains, but early enough that the strong, independent woman he'd fallen so head over heels for continued to sleep soundly. His grin widened at the thought; the picture she presented him with was seemingly a complete paradox to what he'd always known about her._

_For as strong, independent, and formidable as she was awake, while she slept, Calleigh Duquesne was clingy._

_Certainly she liked to cuddle – he'd watched enough movies with her on the couch to know that much. But this was beyond even that, and every morning that he woke up to find Calleigh like this was enough to leave him smiling for the rest of the day. _

_He lay on his back, his arms loosely around her tiny body. Her head was tucked neatly in the crook of his neck, the soft rhythm of her breath teasing his bare skin, much like the softest of feathers. Every breath Eric took delivered the sweet vanilla of her shampoo to his senses, a scent he knew he could never tire of, not now. She'd thrown one arm across his chest, almost as if holding him close, keeping him nearby; almost as if he'd tried to leave her during the night – not a chance – and she done all in her power to stop him. _

_The blankets covered her to the middle of her back, concealing just a bit more of her creamy, perfect skin than Eric would've liked, but he made no move to alter that. He was, after all, content simply to lay with her like this, holding onto her as she slept, while she unconsciously held onto him as well. And while he couldn't see it, he could feel the soft, silky skin of her toned calves, her thighs beneath the blankets as her legs entwined with his, effectively tangling them together. _

_And it felt so perfect. _

_He'd spent so much time trying to get her into his arms, so much time wishing he could be the one to hold her. And now that he had that, he wasn't willing to let her go. And as she slept, it appeared that she too felt the same – a realization that never failed to leave his heart soaring. _

_He'd pointed it out to her only once, her seeming clinginess. Calleigh had blushed and murmured a soft denial, ducking her face into the crook of his neck to hide her smile. She hadn't let go of him, though; hadn't made any attempt at all to disentangle her legs from his. Instead, he'd felt the soft flutter of her lips against his throat; soft, innocent kisses that in time had led to a slow, sensual repeat of the night before. _

_It didn't always happen exactly like that, though, but that didn't stop Eric from treasuring each and every morning as though it might be the last. _

_She drew him out of his silent reverie then with a quiet sigh, almost inaudible, but plenty loud enough to float to Eric's ears. Carefully, so as not to wake her, Eric turned his head toward hers, just enough to press a tender kiss into her hair. And he was very much rewarded as she shifted in her sleep, lightly nuzzling against him. It was completely unconscious and Calleigh likely had no idea she was even doing it, but that didn't stop the smile of utter contentment from stretching over Eric's lips. _

_In the past, long before Calleigh had found her way into his heart, he'd often wondered if this kind of life, if these kinds of mornings would ever be enough for him. But now that he could freely call Calleigh his, Eric knew that it was more than enough simply to hold her and wonder what she dreamed. _

..

It was a simple yet wonderful pleasure, being able to hold her like that, almost any time he'd wanted to. And now, the idea that such a pleasure would never be his again, that she'd slipped – no, that she'd been stolen completely out of his arms was excruciating. The memories continued to assault him like knives to his wounded heart, but Eric couldn't force them from his mind at all. He had no control over the visions that passed before his eyes, an endless filmstrip of the all too short amount of time he'd spent with her.

But outside of the sanctity of his thoughts, Eric was forced to watch that beautiful, blissful filmstrip shift directly into the most frightening horror movie he'd ever seen. The stakes were much higher than in any movie; the monster was much more dangerous than any fictional antagonist. And, worst of all, there was no button that Eric could press to simply make it all stop. He was caught in the middle of it; _Calleigh_ was caught in the middle of it. And there was very little, possibly _nothing_, that he could do to change any of it, especially when every beacon of light turned out to be little more than a mirage in a desert of nothingness. And that was the reality of it – they had _nothing_ to go on.

_Calleigh was going to die._

The thought was erratically crossing Eric's mind more and more with every hour that passed, leaving him more and more frantic, and growing steadily unable to hide that. Quickly, Eric was wearing thin, and he knew it would only get worse. His nerves were shot, never mind his patience. He was exhausted; he hadn't slept since this ordeal had begun. He was broken; he was in pain, both physical and emotional. His shoulder was killing him, but that was almost nothing compared to the heartache he felt, combined with the guilt that ate angrily at his stomach. And still he'd ignored Natalia's quiet suggestions, knowing that if he _needed_ the rest, he would take it. If he _needed_ to go home, if he _needed _to step away, he would. Only, Eric didn't need any of that. He just needed Calleigh – he needed her safe. All else to him was trivial.

And so he'd pushed through the pain and exhaustion, forcing his eyes and mind to focus on the task at hand. He'd attacked the prints they'd lifted from what remained of Calleigh's car with an unparalleled fervor, knowing those prints could be the only lead they might find. He ignored the occasional glance of concern shot his way by Natalia, ignored the note of worry in her voice as she spoke. After all, he couldn't possibly be expected to step back from this, could he? Eric couldn't even imagine it.

Six sets of prints had been found in the empty shell of Calleigh's car. There had been the obvious, Calleigh's own prints. When the second set had been identified as his own, Eric had needed a moment. He'd _known_ they would be there, certainly, but he'd been utterly unprepared for the gravity of the realization as it slammed into him. She was out there somewhere, facing this ordeal with no one but a Russian mastermind for company – so very far away from the laughter they'd often shared during long traffic jams, or the playful arguments they'd had over her choice of radio station. It had been far too much to imagine that he might never have that again, and even now, the thought sent an unwelcome shudder through his entire body.

Two other sets of prints had belonged to Natalia and Valera, left behind no doubt during one of their rare girls' night out excursions. It wasn't often that Calleigh let herself have one of those nights, usually preferring to spend her evenings curled up under a blanket on the couch, more often than not with Eric's arms around her. As a matter of fact, it had taken much coercing from the other two to convince Calleigh to go out this most recent time, and even then, her participation had merely been halfhearted. She'd been all too glad to make it home that night, and Eric couldn't help but feel his lips twitch – only slightly, though – as he remembered how easily, how quickly she'd slipped back into his arms.

There had been two other sets of prints – one of which was unknown, not in the system. The sixth pair belonged to the man currently sitting on the other side of the glass walls of the interrogation room. Nikolai Baikov, an unquestioned member of the Russian mob, and a man that Eric had only had a few personal encounters with, but even those few were enough for Eric to know that he was cold and calculating, clever and quick to anger. This wasn't a man that Eric wanted to envision anywhere near Calleigh. Even from the other side of the glass, just the sight of him left Eric's blood boiling; he didn't _want_ to wait for Natalia. He wanted to go in there now; he wanted just five minutes alone with him. Obviously he wasn't the man who had Calleigh, but that didn't make a difference to Eric.

But Natalia had given him clear instructions to wait, asserting that Stetler would have his badge if he were to go in there alone. Right now, though, Eric cared very little about the badge. But still, he waited, albeit impatiently, and it wasn't a moment too soon that he heard the steady clack of her heels, growing louder as she approached him. "Sorry," she offered at the clear annoyance in Eric's eyes. "I know I said ten minutes ago, but Tripp wanted a word." She paused for a moment, studying Eric from head to toe, from his stiff posture to the obvious tension in his limbs. "You ready for this?" she asked cautiously, once she'd successfully found his eyes. Reaching out, Natalia gently brushed her fingertips along his elbow, frowning when he abruptly pulled away. "You know you don't have to do this. Are you sure you want to be in there?"

Eric's response was immediate. "How many more times are you going to ask me that?" he questioned quietly, his impatience getting the best of him. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply, holding it a moment before letting it out. "I'm sorry," he murmured, opening his eyes and glancing through the glass. "I just…"

"I would be asking anybody else the same questions," Natalia interjected. "I already told you – you're no good to Calleigh if you let anger get the best of you. None of us are. I ask because I – because _Calleigh_ needs you to be calm. I need you to remember that, okay?"

She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for a response. "Yeah, okay," Eric muttered, much too noncommittally for Natalia's liking. "I'll be calm."

Natalia sighed. In her mind, she _knew_ this was a bad idea – Eric couldn't possibly be any closer to this. It was an _extreme_ conflict of interests, and if Stetler knew the true extent of Eric and Calleigh's relationship, the man would likely have all three of their badges in his hands. But at the same time, she _knew_ Eric. Knew he wouldn't sleep until he got the answers he so desperately needed; knew he couldn't breathe until they at least found something substantial to go on. All they were working on was a single AFIS hit, and for all they knew, that might lead them nowhere in the end. It was what they had, though, and Natalia wasn't sure she could be the one to cruelly rip that away from him. "Fine," she relented, a hand on the doorknob. "But you'd better remember what I told you before. One wrong move…"

"And I'm on the outside," Eric huffed, making it seem such a greater punishment than any of the other consequences he might face.

"And I am one hundred percent serious about that," Natalia added sternly, though her eyes remained softer than her voice. "I _know_ this is hard for you, and like I said, I know you're willing to do whatever it takes to get Calleigh back. But I can't have you in that room with me if you're going to fly off the handle at the smallest thing. Do you understand what I'm saying? _Really_ understand?" Pursing her lips, she hesitated for a moment, offering a slight tilt of her head. "I feel for you; I really do," she added, much more softly than before. "But you have to be –"

"I _know_, 'Talia," Eric grumbled, lifting a hand to rub at his tired eyes. "I know that." A moment passed in silence as he simply breathed deeply, trying desperately to quell the visions still rushing through his mind, both blissful and devastating, for both extremes could leave him lashing out at the wrong time. He swallowed hard, glancing again through the glass before he gave a stiff nod, seemingly to reassure himself. "I'm good. I've got it."

Natalia studied his face for just a moment longer before finally offering a quick nod of her own. "Okay, then." With that, she slowly turned the doorknob, granting them entrance to the glass-walled room. And as soon as the door was closed behind them, the room's occupant lifted his eyes to them. They were cold and dark, and Natalia would swear she could sense the evil within, just from one second of eye contact. Normally, she wasn't one to jump to such quick conclusions as that, but she couldn't deny the fact that _something_ had left her fighting back a shudder as she'd walked into the room.

At first, it was almost as though Nikolai hadn't seen Eric at all – his eyes were occupied entirely by Natalia. His dark eyes raked appreciatively over her, scanning attentively from head to toe, lingering at the slight bit of cleavage afforded by her top, as well as at the feminine curve of her hips. Clearly, he liked what he saw, and he made no effort to conceal that – the wicked grin that spread quickly across his lips was evidence enough of that, and beside her, Eric couldn't help but feel his anger begin to bubble beneath the surface.

The Russian's intense gaze had unnerved her, but Natalia had been prepared enough for that, at least enough to give the appearance of being completely unperturbed. Her eyes were cold as she sat across from him, and just a second later she felt Eric settle into the chair beside her. The first alarms were sounding in her head, but Natalia ignored them for the moment, forcing the evidence of Eric's forced calm from her periphery. His motions were tightly controlled; it was clear he was utilizing every last fiber of his self-restraint to remain still.

A fraction of her attention would remain on Eric throughout this interrogation, keeping watch for even the most subtle hints that he was feeling overwhelmed. For now, though, Natalia cleared her throat and clasped her hands on the table in front of her, fixing their suspect with a hard stare. "So I hear you gave Sergeant Tripp quite a difficult time out there," she began, smirking slightly at the palpable anger she'd perceived in Tripp after Nikolai's arrest. "Made things pretty hard for him, and therefore yourself in the long run, didn't you? Resisting arrest, and all that."

Clearly unafraid, Nikolai merely snickered. "Wouldn't have resisted if they'd sent _you_ out to cuff me," he replied smoothly, slowly tracing his tongue over his lips. "I bet you know how to use the handcuffs, don't you?"

Natalia studiously ignored him, pulling three photographs from the file she'd brought in and laying them on the table before him. "I'm going to get straight to the point here. These are your fingerprints," she said assertively, watching as Nikolai took only a brief glance downward. "They were found in an abandoned, dismantled car that was dumped deep in the Everglades." Her eyes hardened as her voice grew accusatory. "A car that _you_ left abandoned and dismantled in the Everglades. A car that belonged to a cop."

The Russian gave an exaggerated yawn, seemingly bored by the line of questioning. "Yeah? So what?" he challenged, his Russian accent thick. Next to Natalia, Eric shuddered slightly, having heard quite enough of that particular accent in the past couple of months. Every word was just dripping with contempt, and the idea of Calleigh hearing nothing but a similar accent, perhaps right before her death, was enough to have his stomach clenching violently.

"So I'm thinking you assaulted this cop," Natalia continued, though from the sixth set of prints they'd found in the backseat of the car, she was almost completely certain that this was not true – but it could draw the true story out of this man, which was the main objective in the case right now. "And then you stole the car as a parting gift. And there, we've already got you on assaulting an officer and grand theft."

Nikolai frowned, offering a quick glance to Eric. "Might want to check your facts before you go accusing the wrong people."

"Is that so?" Natalia challenged, lifting an eyebrow. "So what really happened, then? You help us out, and we might be able to…make things easier for you in the long run," she said, ignoring the glance of annoyance Eric threw her way. As far as he was concerned, there would be no deals.

"Fine," Nikolai huffed. "You want to know what really happened? I found this car, abandoned in the middle of the Everglades. How was I supposed to know it belonged to a cop? Besides, without wheels and gas, it wasn't going to be of any use to anybody, myself included. I didn't _steal_ it; I left it where I found it." He paused, tilting his head slightly. "I took the stereo, though – guess I left some prints behind." He smirked. "Small price to pay, since the stereo sounds damn good in my car now."

Natalia smiled. "Now, we all know that isn't true. We found the stereo in a nearby pawn shop. Besides," she continued, lightly tapping one of the photographs. "These prints that we matched to you? Found them on the steering wheel, not the stereo. You were driving." Natalia paused briefly, lifting an eyebrow in challenge. "You were driving, and I want to know why."

Nikolai snickered, scratching lightly at his chin. "Oh, I was _driving, _all right. Just…not in the way you're thinking."

"Is that so?" Natalia questioned, narrowing her eyes. "Why don't you enlighten us, then?"

Clucking his tongue, Nikolai glanced quickly around the room, though for what purpose neither Eric nor Natalia could be sure. "This cop you refer to…might it be a _she_?" he asked airily, pursing his lips as though trying quite hard to remember the exact details, while in fact remembering them rather pristinely. "Tiny little thing? Utterly gorgeous? Blonde hair down her back, green eyes that sparkle like gems?"

Natalia shook her head. "I can't provide those details," she said simply, professionally.

It didn't matter, though. Nikolai's eyes had flickered just long enough to Eric – he'd witnessed the subtle tensing of his body, had seen the clenching of his jaw, the flinch of his eyes. He'd known all along who the cop was, but if Eric had responded so noticeably to simple descriptions such as that, then Nikolai knew he could have some definite fun with him. "You don't have to, doll," he simpered, jerking his head toward Eric. "_He_ just gave it completely away."

Triumphantly, he sat back in his chair, presenting the perfect picture of calm. Clearly, there was nothing in this interrogation that was even coming close to puncturing his thick skin. "You want the real story, though?" he asked rhetorically, smirking all the while. "Because I'll give you the real story…all the _dreadful_ details. The truth is…my prints are in her car because I _was_ in her car. You caught me. But I'm not sorry. In fact…I would do it again."

"Do _what_ again?"

He snickered lightly, his eyes flickering yet again to an ever tensing Eric. "You see…I was in her car, because she _invited_ me there. It was the only place we could have some…_privacy."_

"Privacy? Right…" Eric scoffed, unable to stop himself. Beneath the table he felt Natalia's heel prod against his calf – it was the only way she could signal him without giving it away to Nikolai. He clenched his jaw, forcing back the insults and scathing retorts that were dying to tumble from his lips.

"You doubt me?" Nikolai simpered, shaking his head lightly. He waited for a moment, then leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. "Let me tell you a little something about your blonde cop. I met her late one night, in a dark parking lot somewhere in South Miami. She has a, ah, problem that only I can solve." His eyes glimmered maliciously, and if possible, his wicked grin only widened. "You see, her _boyfriend_ doesn't have what it takes to satisfy her. He can't give her what she needs. Says he's not…_man_ enough for her." For a moment, his eyes only studied Eric, from his cleanly cut hair, to his eyes, to the simple button-down that covered his upper half. "And now, I understand _exactly_ what she meant," he continued, as though he were seeing Eric for the very first time, when in fact, they'd worked side by side, along with Alexander Sharova, more than a couple of times. Nikolai knew more about Eric than Eric might think possible – it made it all too easy, not to mention just utter fun, to taunt him now. "Now I know exactly why she came to me, night after night. A real woman like that needs a real man, not a little pretty boy like you…and believe you me, that little vixen _is_ a real woman."

Simultaneously, Nikolai was attacking Eric's pride and defaming Calleigh's character. Throughout his speech, Eric had gnawed at the inside of his cheek until the unmistakable metallic taste of blood reached his tongue. It was the only way he could control himself when all he wanted to do was leap across the table and take Nikolai to the ground. He'd done it to Cooper, a former coworker who he'd actually once considered a friend; there existed no reason why he wouldn't do it to this man as well.

But Nikolai wasn't done yet; when he was, Eric could practically _see_ his own hands clasping around the other man's throat. "So you see, my prints are in her car because," he paused for dramatic effect. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, a whisper that infused ice water into Eric's veins. "Because my hands were all over _her._" Clearly pleased with himself, Nikolai grinned widely. "You should, ah, take a hint from the crime shows and run a few more tests on that car. I promise you…prints aren't _all_ I left behind."

Eric clenched his fists, but before he could even formulate any kind of response in his rage-induced haze, Natalia cut in, her voice as cool and collected as ever. "Come on, now, we all know that's the _farthest_ thing from the truth," she said. "_That_ would've been among the first things we found when we searched for biologicals…and there was nothing. And you are quickly running out of chances here - that is the second time that you have blatantly lied to us."

"Is it?" Nikolai simpered, licking his lips again. "I'd be _more_ than willing to show you the truth – show you _exactly_ what happened that night," he said with a grin. "I bet you're a screamer too, right doll? I bet that I could have you _begging_ in less than two minutes."

Natalia gave a condescending smirk. "Sorry, Baikov, but the arrogance and the unwillingness to cooperate? Best way to ensure that that is absolutely _not_ true." Narrowing her eyes, she leaned forward herself, feeling Eric's eyes follow her. "I wouldn't be alone _anywhere_ with you, and I know _damn_ well that CSI Duquesne would feel _exactly_ the same."

Nikolai was unperturbed. "You say that now," he breathed, eyes darting again to Natalia's cleavage, and while she'd succeeded in keeping her discomfort hidden beneath the surface up until now, she found it nearly impossible to fight back the chill that raced down her spine – she definitely wished she'd chosen a more modest top today. Nikolai was making her skin crawl. He grinned, continuing. "But you…you're really all the same. Playing hard-to-get. Acting like you're so tough…_until _you're out of the public eye, that is." He paused, tilting his head slightly toward Eric. "Here's an idea – why don't we kick him out of the room, hmm? And _then_ we'll see just how quickly that sexy little top of yours comes off – I'd give you…oh, about forty-five seconds." He smirked, his eyes flashing dangerously to Eric. "You might be a bit more feisty; look like you might fight - just a bit, though. But the little blonde? Little slut was _so_ eager for me…I had all of her clothes off in ten."

At that, Eric couldn't sit idly by any longer. He felt Natalia's glare of warning, but that made no difference to him. Rising quickly to his feet, Eric slammed a fist down on the table, leaning across it with a cold fire in his eyes that left Natalia shivering; Nikolai, however, merely grinned. "You'd better shut up and cooperate," he growled dangerously, ignoring Natalia as she called his name. "You'd better get to the truth, the _real_ truth, or I'll have your back up against –"

"Eric!" Natalia reached out, softly catching his wrist. She knew that, in front of a suspect such as this, it wasn't the best move – especially as Nikolai's eyes darted to her hand at his wrist. But there was little else that Natalia could think of – Eric _had_ to calm down. "Eric."

Eric swallowed hard, forcing away the rising urge to rip the other man from limb to limb. "Yeah," he muttered simply, pulling his wrist from her grasp and slowly lowering himself back to his chair. His eyes, however, didn't soften at all; nor did the erratic pounding of his heart. He avoided Natalia's eyes, simply choosing to keep them trained on the Russian in front of him.

Nikolai grinned – that little exchange had not gone missed by him. "I get it," he whispered, grinning deviously. "It's _not_ just the blonde, is it, Delektorsky?" Eric huffed, and Nikolai nodded his head toward Natalia. "You're sleeping with _her_ too, aren't you? _Damn…_"

Eric gave a low growl, using every last reserve of his control to keep his breathing in check. It was clear, though, that he was struggling, and Nikolai perceived it easily. "What's the matter, little boy? If _I'd_ scored both of them, I'd be bragging about it all around town. And, in fact," he paused, his eyes darting back to Natalia. "Once I _have_ had both of them, I just might."

Natalia scoffed, but before she could retort in any way, Nikolai had rounded on Eric again, licking his lips at the prospect of his words. "Tell me something, though," he began, eyes glimmering. "Which one of them is better between the sheets, hmm? Little blonde bombshell? Or this sassy Latina with the attitude?"

Beneath the table, Eric's fists were clenched so tightly that his nails dug harshly into his palms. The pain, however, was almost nonexistent compared to the sheer rage coursing through his veins. "I refuse to dignify that," he growled quietly, his expression hard.

Nikolai shrugged. "I thought you might say that. No matter, though," he said with a grin. "I'll be finding out for myself soon enough." Once more, his eyes danced over Natalia's cleavage, and it took every fiber of her willpower to keep from squirming. "How about tonight, babe? You, me…we'll put those cuffs of yours to good use. How's that sound?" He paused, slowly flicking his tongue over his lips. "I'll make you scream just like _his_ pretty little blonde…maybe even louder."

He'd promised to stay calm; he'd been sure he could do it. But this man was quickly getting underneath Eric's skin, and every second that he degraded Calleigh, and now Natalia, was another second that Calleigh's chances of making it out alive diminished. It was too much for him; his blood was boiling and his heart was pounding, and while in the back of his mind he _knew_ riling the Russian up wasn't the best course of action, part of him just couldn't help but respond to the challenge, his eyes cold and dark. "I've dealt with _too_ many guys like you in this job," he all but snarled, leaning forward. "And if there is one thing I've found, it's that you're all the same. Every single one of you." It was nearly impossible under the circumstances, but somehow Eric managed to summon up enough of a taunting grin to get his point across. "You're all talk, but when it comes to action, you've got nothing." Unable to stop himself, Eric again rose to his feet, ignoring the way Natalia tensed next to him. He leaned across the table, his voice a low, deadly whisper. "You say all of this, everything that you've done or could do, but really…when was the last time you _ever_ had a woman, huh?"

Hearing his masculinity called into question, Nikolai couldn't help but respond to the challenge – despite whatever plans he might've been instructed to stick to. Palms flat on the table, he too rose to his feet and leaned forward, bringing his face within mere centimeters of Eric's. "You mean _other_ than the nights that I made _your_ girlfriend squeal?" he breathed. "The nights that she came to me, after _you_ couldn't _satisfy_ her?"

"She would _not_ –"

"Sit _down_!"

Natalia too had stood, clearly concerned that the situation was getting too far out of hand. Her order was directed at Nikolai, but it was clear to Eric that part of it was meant for him. He made no effort to move though until Nikolai moved first, and only then did he step back – though reclaim his seat, Eric did not. He felt Natalia's glare of warning, but ignored it. He took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, knowing that if he didn't keep his anger in check, he'd find himself outside of the investigation, just as Natalia had warned him. "Tell us –" he began, pausing once more for a deep breath. "Tell us about the car. The _real_ story."

Nikolai gazed idly at his watch for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next move. "You want to know the _real_ story?" he smirked, finally lifting his eyes back to Eric. "If you _really_ wanted to know that, you wouldn't have double-crossed the mob."

Eric opened his mouth to retort, but Natalia beat him there. "And if you want even the _slightest_ chance of making it out of prison one day, you'll tell us what we want to hear. _Now._"

Clucking his tongue, Nikolai leaned back in his chair, eyes on Natalia as he clasped his hands behind his head. To an outsider, he would be the perfect picture of relaxation. "Bossy little thing, aren't you?" he smirked, throwing a suggestive wink her way. "I like my woman like that in bed." Natalia refused to respond to that, choosing merely to hold his eyes until finally he sighed, seemingly relenting – though there was no way either of them were ready to believe he'd tired from the game yet. "Okay, fine. I got a phone call that night," he said boredly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. In the near silence of the interrogation room, the sound was much too annoying to Eric, but he bit at the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to react. "It was late, and I was…rather busy." Pausing deliberately, he threw Natalia a suggestive wink. "Needless to say, I was _quite_ annoyed."

Eric growled. "Stick to the facts, Baikov."

Nikolai huffed in indignation, though with a roll of his eyes, he did continue. "Like I said. I got this phone call. I was given some very simple instructions to follow. And very simple they truly were – all I was supposed to do was meet my, ah, _associate_ in the parking garage of a hotel."

"And what hotel would this be?" Eric questioned.

Nikolai grinned. "I don't recall."

Eric narrowed his eyes, gripping tightly at the edge of the table to restrain himself. "You don't recall," he repeated, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"What can I say?" Nikolai simpered. He sighed heavily, almost as though he actually were regretful that he couldn't help. "It was dark. And you see, my night vision is rather…lacking."

"Of _course_ it is," Eric sneered. It was unreal, the rage that was steadily pumping through his veins right now. He wanted nothing more than to leap across that table and tear the man to shreds. And he'd be more than happy to do so with his bare hands.

Natalia could sense this, and quickly stepped in again. "Who did you meet there?" she asked, a little more loudly than necessary. "And what were you instructed to do?"

Nikolai ignored the first question. "I was told to take the car. Drive it around a little bit, then dump it somewhere. Simple as that." He smirked. "However, nice ride like that? I couldn't resist taking what I could of it, make a little profit myself. I mean, if I'm gonna give up my time for this silly little plan, I'd damn well better get something out of it."

"Whose plan?" Eric breathed, his voice a low growl. "Who is behind this?"

But again, Nikolai ignored that particular inquiry. "I didn't want to do it, you know," he sighed, shaking his head. "Taking the car. Even if I _had_ gotten to keep it for myself, that still wasn't the most lucrative part of the assignment. But I… I'm still fairly low on the totem pole, you know? Haven't gotten the chance to work my way up yet. So I never get the _good_ assignments."

Eric's eyes glimmered angrily; he didn't have to question Nikolai to know what exactly the "good assignment" was. Before he could say anything at all, Nikolai was continuing, the disappointment in his voice palpable. "I could've had some fun with her, you know. From the minute I saw him drag her out of that car, I knew I could've had it made."

Eric scoffed. "I thought your night vision was _lacking."_

Nikolai laughed. _"Please. _A blind man could see what a sexy little thing that blonde is." Exaggeratedly, he slammed a fist on the tabletop, a frown at his lips. "_Damn_, I wish that had been my assignment." The frown on his face quickly became a smirk as he continued. "I could tell she was dying to fight. Feisty little thing, she was. Tell me," he began, his eyes glinting wickedly. "You ever tie her to the bed and have your way with her? Because I can _assure_ you one thing – that's exactly what my associate is doing with her," he paused for dramatic effect. "As we speak."

Natalia opened her mouth to question again, but Eric was faster. "Tell me who has her," he spat, seeing only red and hearing only a deafening roar in his ears. His anger was consuming him, washing over him in waves, and if Nikolai didn't give up something soon, he was going to snap. It was inevitable. "Tell me who this _associate_ is."

Nikolai merely chuckled, pretending to examine a small scratch on his watch. When he spoke, it was only a simple word of defiance, spoken with an arrogant grin. "No."

Eric growled, momentarily stepping back from the table. He turned away, training his eyes to the outside of the glass as he forced himself to breathe. He could hear Nikolai snicker from behind him, clearly pleased at rattling his composure so completely, but while Eric knew he couldn't focus on that, he just couldn't help it. Nikolai had succeeded in getting under his skin, and the ease with which he'd done it angered Eric further.

After a moment, he turned back in time to hear Natalia rephrase the question he'd asked, though the words she appended to it only left him biting roughly at the inside of his cheek. "If you tell us who you're working for, we could be able to offer you a deal."

Before Eric could react to that – there was _no way_ this man was getting a deal – Nikolai was speaking again. "I don't need a deal. I've got connections." He grinned, infuriating Eric as he continued. "Which is good, because you see, I just don't feel like giving anything up. I may be _damn_ jealous, but I would never take away a fellow countryman's fun." Pausing, Nikolai stretched in his chair, offering up an evil chuckle. "Yeah, I bet he's having a _real_ good time with her right now. Probably got her naked and writhing under him right now, making her _scream_ out his name over and over again…showing her what a _real_ man is."

That was _it._ With two quick strides, Eric was on the other side of the table, his fingers clutching at the material of Nikolai's shirt as he forced him out of that chair. No longer caring about the consequences, Eric shoved the other man against the wall, finding only the smallest bit of glee in the sound of Nikolai's head hitting the glass. "You tell me who has her," Eric growled dangerously, his face inches from Nikolai's. His muscles flexed threateningly as he held him there, and Eric could only vaguely hear his name being called behind him. "You _tell_ me!Or I swear to God I'll _kill_ you right here."

_"Eric!"_

She was there in an instant, her hands strong at his shoulders. "That is _enough_!" she commanded, her voice echoing off the glass and reverberating sharply in Eric's ringing ears. "Let _go_, Eric."

He did, though it was clearly with reluctance. His heart was pounding angrily; the rush of blood and sheer adrenaline through his body left him wanting to rip the man apart. Breathing heavily, he was obviously ready for a fight, and it took a couple of moments to even begin to think about calming himself. The cold glower on his face and the deathly glare in his eyes didn't fade at all, though – those likely wouldn't fade until Nikolai was completely out of his sight.

Nikolai, however, seemed all too pleased at the sudden turn of events. "Police brutality, right there!" he proclaimed loudly, crossing his arms smugly. "Who do I talk to in order to file charges against _Officer_ Delko?" he added, and never before had the title seemed so condescending.

Eric huffed, but Natalia had obviously had enough of this. "Sit down and shut up!" she snapped to Nikolai, her eyes cold. "And _you_," she continued, turning back to Eric. "You're done with this."

His eyes narrowed, and Natalia couldn't help but shudder at the iciness of his gaze. If looks could kill, there was no question that Nikolai would be dead and buried in the ground. "Damn right, I'm done," he growled, fists still clenched at his side. Without waiting for another word, he turned and quickly stalked out of the room, leaving the door to slam behind him.

He'd lost his cool; he knew that. What he didn't know was how in the world he was supposed to _keep_ it, being taunted like that. It was an attack on _everything_. His own past. Calleigh's integrity and fidelity, neither of which he would _ever_ question. Not to mention Natalia's… It was clear that he had upset the Russians dearly, and now, he was paying for that. They held no qualms about doing whatever they could to cause him misery. They clearly wanted their revenge, and they were certainly getting it.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the slight sensation of something vibrating at his hip, and Eric couldn't ignore the way his blood suddenly chilled in his veins. Solely on instinct, for his mind was still reeling from what had just happened, he reached for his phone – Travers had given it back to him before the interrogation, having been unable to perform any kind of trace on the calls he'd already received.

It didn't surprise him that his hand shook lightly as he lifted the phone, his eyes taking in the number on the display. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that it was accompanied by a name, a name that had appeared there several times over the past few months. Mentally he crossed his fingers, hoping that this particular call would bring him good news. Opening his phone, he brought it to his ear, forcing back the anger that still bubbled within him as he answered. "Yelina?"

"Eric –" Before she could say any more than that, Eric abruptly cut her off.

"Do we know anything else?" he asked hopefully, trying but failing to keep from getting his hopes up. He couldn't fathom why else Yelina would be calling him now – the assignment was obviously over, and he'd been debriefed already. She _had_ to have news.

But that hope was promptly destroyed as Yelina spoke again. "Not quite, Eric. Every little lead we had is coming up empty so far. I assume you didn't get anything from the phone either?"

Eric sighed. "No. The signals are all being scrambled somehow – Travers couldn't ping a location. Couldn't even manage to trace the GPS on it." Lifting his free hand, he rubbed at his face, suddenly feeling rather tired. "So if we don't have anything else, then what…?" He trailed off, finally feeling something other than anger claim a large part of his emotions – confusion.

Yelina hesitated, knowing her news might be worse to Eric than the lack of new leads. "He, uh…he wants to see you. Wants a word with you."

Eric didn't follow. "Who?"

For a moment, there was silence from the other end of the line. When Yelina spoke again, her voice delivered only a single word. Yet within that one, single word, Eric felt the anger flaring up again. He'd wanted five minutes alone with Nikolai Baikov; he couldn't _wait_ to find himself alone with the man who currently had Calleigh. But this one, the name that floated to his ear in Yelina's quiet yet assertive voice – this was the man who Eric would be perfectly fine to never see again.

"Sharova."


	9. nine

_**/9/**_

Calleigh felt as though her entire body was absolutely _burning._

Every part of her felt engulfed in an agonizing flame as she struggled to draw herself out of the dazed unconsciousness her exhausted body had fallen into. Her limbs, her mind, everything demanded _sleep_, and she'd been much too exhausted to resist giving in, even if a restless sleep was all she could achieve. Her limbs burned from twisting and turning, particularly the arm which remained restrained to the bed. Her mind was clouded, only half processing the information delivered to it. And as she forced her burning eyes open, Calleigh's vision was foggy, completely clouded over. She felt almost as though lost in a haze, one she couldn't escape from.

For a moment, she had no idea where she even was. The shades had been drawn sometime during her unconsciousness, leaving the room nearly devoid of light. The only source of illumination came from the bathroom – the light was on, but the door was merely ajar, affording only a slight sliver of light to enter the bedroom. There was movement in the room though – she could perceive only that. She could see little more than the shadows dancing along the wall, could see a dark figure sitting at the table, and her eyelids fell closed once more, still heavy with exhaustion.

All her mind had perceived was the movement of the figure at the table. It escaped her lips on a quiet whisper, but escape it did, and that was all that mattered. "Eric…"

Rather than Eric's comforting voice, Calleigh's ears picked up on a grim chuckle, the sound somehow muffled by the haze that surrounded her. Again she forced her eyes open, only to blink them shut again in pain as the figure turned on the light at the table. A burst of pain shot through her head, and Calleigh groaned, tugging at her hand with intentions of covering her eyes, but remembering all too late that it was still restrained. There was a quick movement, and Calleigh's eyes shot open again, able to do little more than watch helplessly as Vadim reached for her purse.

He grinned, watching as she roused herself fully from sleep. "I see my princess is awake again," he cooed. "Sorry to, ah, disappoint you, but little Eric isn't here."

Only then did she realize she'd said his name, and Calleigh wrinkled her brow, holding back a groan. The fog was beginning to clear, not that much, but enough to know that Vadim had likely been all too gleeful to hear her murmur Eric's name. She said nothing, choosing to acknowledge neither his presence nor his words, but that mattered very little to Vadim.

For now, he simply busied himself with rummaging through Calleigh's bag. "Looks like I hit the jackpot with you, didn't I?" he commented gleefully, eyeing the contents of her wallet. "You really _do _have it all – you're sexy, you're smart, _and_ you're rich. No wonder all the boys are _constantly_ drooling over you."

Calleigh chose not to dignify that, merely watching through her exhausted eyes as Vadim pocketed everything, just as though it was all there for his taking. A gleeful grin stretched across his lips, and Calleigh couldn't help but realize something that left her heart faltering. He was going to take _everything_ from her before he ever let her go, _if_ he ever let her go.

And with every hour that passed, every _minute_, Calleigh was beginning to lose hope of ever getting out of here. She was going to die here…_after_ Vadim had his fun. And there was nothing she could do about it – Calleigh literally had no control over what happened to her. It was this fact that kept hitting her like a brick wall, leaving her breathless and stunned, each time worse than before. In the beginning, she'd had a difficult time separating this from before, Vadim from Seth and Tommy. But Tommy had been hesitant; he was just as afraid of getting caught as he was of Seth. And Seth…Calleigh had gotten the impression toward the end that he'd really been little more than talk. But Vadim…Calleigh shuddered. Vadim would have no qualms backing up his words with actions, and that terrified her.

"I have a question for you, beautiful," he proclaimed suddenly, drawing Calleigh's attention to him once more. Again her mind lingered on the endearment, one of the many he'd dished out at her throughout this ordeal. Above all the others, though, it was that one that Calleigh wasn't sure she'd ever be able to hear from anyone else. Every time the word was tainted by his lips, it left Calleigh feeling more and more exposed; left the word sounding the opposite of what it was meant to convey. Right now, to Calleigh's ears, there was no word that was _less_ beautiful.

She swallowed hard, forcing that train of thought away as he continued. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to carry so many valuables with you?" he sneered. "All these credit cards, the cash…my, my, I thought so just from the inside of your condo, but you _are_ quite the wealthy little princess, aren't you? And mommy never taught you to take better care of that wealth…" He trailed off, his eyes darkening before he continued. "Oh wait, I forgot," he simpered, the sarcasm dripping from his fake sympathy. "Mommy was too busy hiding from Daddy the drunk, wasn't she, hmm?"

In her exhaustion, Calleigh's reaction times were suffering. A day before, she might have limited her reaction to little more than a cold stare, but now she couldn't help but gasp softly, blindsided by the remark. "Wh – what?" she stammered, her heart and head both pounding. She felt the chill rush through her, cooling the blood in her veins before settling in her stomach as an icy block of dread – were she to look in a mirror right then, she knew her face would be paler than a ghost.

Vadim clucked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head in disappointment. "Now, now, Calleigh baby, don't you play dumb with me." He stood, stretching lazily. "It's really not attractive on a smart, sexy woman such as yourself…" For a moment he paused simply for dramatic effect before he continued, rather conversationally. "Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about – I know things about you, your family, and your _interesting_ past that would make your pretty little head spin." He grinned deviously. "Beginning with the fact that you simply were _not_ supposed to happen. What's the word for that? Oh, yeah, _mistake_. How ironic – the impeccable Calleigh Duquesne…was a mistake."

Calleigh's eyes hardened, though other than that, she refused to react. "Lots of babies are accidents."

"And you're simply okay with that? You, for whom anything less than perfect is simply not acceptable?" Vadim smirked. "I find that hard to believe." Pausing, he leaned forward in his chair, fixing Calleigh with an intimidating stare. "Tell me, sweet pea, did you ever feel _guilty?_"

Calleigh glared, meeting his stare fully. "For _what?_"

Vadim chuckled. "I think you know exactly what. Your parents would've never been married if it weren't for the little spawn growing inside your mother. I think…that your mother only stayed with him because of you, and later because of your brothers. Isn't that right? When you were old enough to take care of yourselves, she was gone more and more until finally she walked out. She withstood all those years of torment at the hands of your drunk father…because of _you_."

"Not true," Calleigh scoffed. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really, now?" Vadim lifted a challenging eyebrow. "Then explain to me just how I know so damn much about your baby brothers. Three of them, yes?" Calleigh didn't reply, and Vadim smirked. "Evan, Embry, and Aaron, I do believe. Not exactly mistakes like you," he paused, snickering as though it were the most amusing joke in the world. "But I can't say your mother was exactly _happy_ about having to stick around for three more little brats…especially that youngest one."

At that, Calleigh averted her eyes for the first time – the motion was involuntary and brief, but Vadim caught it easily. He clucked his tongue before continuing. "Ah, yes. Aaron Duquesne. "The black sheep of the family…but then again, you were all pretty damn screwed up, weren't you?" He paused, almost as though waiting for an agreement from Calleigh, though she wouldn't have given him one if her life had depended on it. "He never even graduated high school. Had been wrapped up with wrong crowd since he turned fourteen – being the baby makes you desperate for attention, I guess." He watched, gleeful as Calleigh clenched her jaw. He'd struck a nerve; that much he knew. "How old was he, hmm?"

With that question, Vadim began to move, noting immediately how Calleigh stiffened. Slow, lazy steps brought him close to the bed, but she defiantly refused to meet his eyes. That was fine with him, though – she'd be seeing him and only him soon enough. "You couldn't save him, could you?"

Calleigh sunk her teeth into the inside of her cheek, focusing on the sharp pain elicited by the action. Sharp pain, followed by the telltale metallic taste of blood – it was much preferable to the storm Vadim was attempting to stir within her. A powerful shudder rushed through her as she felt the mattress dip slightly, though she still didn't offer him her eyes as he lowered himself to the bed once more. "You _failed_, didn't you?" he continued, a sinister chuckle coloring his words. "Big sister couldn't protect baby brother from the streets after all. You killed your own brother, because you didn't try hard enough to stop him."

"Shut up," Calleigh breathed, involuntarily tensing and drawing her knees toward her chest. The arm not restrained to the bed wrapped around them, a defensive posture she hadn't even fully realized she'd adopted until Vadim was calling her out on it, feeding upon the guilt she still felt about that night, so many years ago. In so many ways, she'd been the pillar of strength for all four of them, the support that they'd all needed when they couldn't get it from their parents. She'd had the fear, but never had she really thought the family would fall so completely apart after she'd made her escape.

She could still remember the phone call; could still hear the frantic desperation in Embry's voice – he'd tried; Evan had tried. But the fact remained that the only one who had _ever_ been able to talk any sense into stubborn Aaron had been Calleigh. But that week had been finals week, and Calleigh had had the bright idea to register for an overload of courses for that semester – it wasn't a problem grade-wise, but between that and working, she'd had very little time for anything else – _no_ time for anything else during finals week. Embry and Evan had wanted her to come home, but she couldn't. She _couldn't_.

The next night, Aaron had left the Duquesne house for the very last time. A week later, his body was found, evidence of drugs in his system and a gunshot wound at the back of his head. It was only then that Calleigh had learned the full extent of the gang he'd been running with, and for years she had carried the guilt for not noticing the signs sooner. They had _all_ been there, and if Evan and Embry had noticed…Calleigh should've noticed long before they did, and even now, she couldn't be entirely sure if it was because she couldn't see, or because she hadn't _wanted_ to see.

It was as though Vadim could read her mind as she sat there, barely concealing the angry trembling in her limbs. "But it's okay, right?" he smirked, finally drawing the attention of Calleigh's furious emerald eyes. "After all…acing Theory of Quantum Mechanics is _always_ more important than family, hmm?"

"Shut up," Calleigh repeated, her quiet voice dripping with fury. "You have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

At that, Vadim tilted his head back, barking out a full laugh. The sound startled Calleigh, though luckily Vadim didn't notice. "Oh, Princess, do you _still_ doubt me?" he asked, highly amused. "You would be _surprised_ at how much I truly know about you and your past…" He grinned evilly. "I know things that you would never even _think_ that I knew, things you would think were utterly trivial. I know _all_ about that dysfunctional family of yours…it's amazing though, that three of you came out so well-adjusted in the end."

For a moment he paused, his eyes glittering as he searched Calleigh's features, gleeful to see the slightest, most involuntary tic of apprehension flit across her face. "Aaron might've been just as screwed up as your parents, but the rest of you aren't so bad now, right? Evan Duquesne, lives in New Orleans now? Married a thoracic surgeon last year – she's expecting their first child now, isn't she?" He smirked. "Too bad you'll never see your little niece or nephew though."

The words were cold and foreboding, but before Calleigh could linger upon them at all, Vadim was shifting slightly on the bed before continuing. "And what about Embry, huh? Just got his master's in physics at the University of Georgia, didn't he? Physics…just like his big sister – he always _did_ idolize you, didn't he?" Pausing again, Vadim gave a quiet snicker, pleased to see the slight incredulity in Calleigh's eyes – though she tried, she couldn't quite hide it all. "And then there's _you_," he continued, turning his body deliberately toward her. "Tulane University. You graduated valedictorian – perfect GPA, yes?" He grinned. "You wouldn't have had it any other way, not after what you did to poor Aaron. You were _determined_ to come out on top, _determined_ to do whatever it took to convince yourself that it was worth it. And, looking at you now, I'd say it was." Reaching out, he lightly brushed a knuckle over her hand, sending Calleigh's skin crawling. "Some people are still old-fashioned; like it when women stay pregnant in the kitchen. But me…I _like _my women smart."

"I am _not_ your woman," Calleigh spat, unable to stop herself. The idea was repulsing; it left a dreadfully bitter taste in her mouth, one that left her stomach absolutely churning.

Her vehemence did little more than amuse him, though. "Maybe not _yet_," he smirked, now tracing his knuckle along her bare calf. "But you will be _very_ soon. Right now…" He paused, tilting his head inquisitively. "Right now, I'm still trying to understand why you made some of these _ridiculous _decisions you've made…starting with _why_ you graduated at the top of your class with a perfect GPA, and instead of going to grad school or med school, you decided to go to the police academy. I'll bet that decision was influenced by little Aaron, wasn't it? You wanted to put away the bad guys who took his life, didn't you?"

Before she could even begin to refute that, Vadim's eyes darkened. His lips curled sinisterly, as though realizing something he hadn't quite realized before. And as soon as he opened his mouth, Calleigh felt her blood run cold. "You met someone there, didn't you?" he asked, his voice little more than a low rumble. "Someone who, in the end, made some choices _very_ similar to little Aaron's…"

Calleigh knew where he was going before Vadim even uttered the name. "Jacob Berkeley," he smirked. "Of course, he hates that given name, doesn't he? Always felt he was too much of a rebel for a pretty boy name like that. You know, out of everything I've learned about you in the past couple of months, I think that he may just be my favorite part of your very _sordid_ past," Vadim quipped. "After all, he was quite the thorn in Delektorsky's side, wasn't he?"

She'd tried to remain impassive, but Calleigh couldn't deny that that remained a bit of a sore spot. She ducked her head, but it wasn't enough to hide an involuntary flinch from Vadim. He smirked again, knowing he'd hit yet another nerve. "You should've chosen him, you know." Vadim clucked his tongue in disapproval. "I like that guy. He was into _everything_ that little Eric isn't, wasn't he? The drugs, the booze…" His eyes darkened. "The girls."

Clenching her teeth, Calleigh forced herself to bite back the retort at her lips. She knew Vadim was merely trying to rile her up – it was working, but it was imperative that she not let it show. Despite the heartache she'd experienced many times at the hands of Jake Berkeley, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he _wasn't_ like that – there remained a part of her that felt a need to defend him. He'd done what was required of him by the job, the situation, and it angered her that Vadim tried to make that into who Jake really _was_. It angered her that Vadim knew of him _at all_. It angered her that he knew _anything_ about her past, her past that she'd tried so desperately to hide, to escape from. And he was throwing it right back in her face, summoning up demons that Calleigh had thought she'd beaten long ago.

Though she didn't speak, Vadim could easily see the internal battle going on through her eyes. "He was a _wild_ one, wasn't he? I'll bet he easily got cool, calm and collected Calleigh Duquesne to lose all those silly pretenses, didn't he? I'll bet he knew _just_ how to make you scream, didn't he, princess?" He licked his lips, the sight sending a shiver down Calleigh's spine. "It's too bad we don't still have your phone…I bet his number's still in there, isn't it? I'd love to call Berkeley up. Get him out here…I bet he and I could have some serious _fun_ with you…" Pausing, he boldened his exploration of her skin, drawing a roughened fingertip over her knee and onto her lower thigh – Calleigh shuddered, unable to do little more than watch in horror. "He'd be _all_ too willing, wouldn't he? I bet he'd help me hold you down…we could take turns with you at our mercy, _making_ you pay up for being such a _damn_ tease."

At that, Calleigh couldn't hold her silence. "He would _never_," she growled, a fury burning in her eyes.

Vadim smirked. "Oh really?" he simpered. "I see things differently. Don't think I don't know what happened between the three of you…I bet Berkeley has _so_ much anger built up toward you over little Delektorsky that he'd _love_ to get his revenge – it wasn't little Eric, after all, who broke his heart. It was _you_."

"You don't know a damn thing about either one of them," Calleigh snarled, the angry pounding of her heart echoing in her ears.

"I know Daddy never approved of Berkeley, did he?" Vadim questioned. "Never thought the bad boy was good enough for his baby girl." Pausing, he gave a wicked smile. "Then again, there was only one man your Daddy ever _did_ approve of, wasn't there? And that…was good ol' Jack Daniels, wasn't it?"

Calleigh immediately paled, eliciting a low, barking laugh from Vadim. "Oh yes, I know that too. Drowned himself in the bottle practically every night. And he…he was a _violent_ drunk, wasn't he?" Vadim's eyes glittered. "That was why your mama spent so many nights hiding. That was why Aaron turned out the way he did. _That's_ why you have those faint scars on your back – Daddy Duke didn't like his twelve year old princess trying to take his best buddy, that bottle, away from him. Didn't like fourteen year old Calleigh defending her little brothers. And _certainly_ didn't like seventeen year old Calleigh missing curfew and staying out all night after senior prom."

"Shut up," Calleigh growled yet again, feeling her entire body tremble with anger - there was _no_ way he could possibly know all of this, and yet, he was quoting her entire life back to her, the details scarily accurate. _"Shut up."_

Vadim, as predicted, did not. "And yet, you still _defend_ the man. He makes your life _hell_ for eighteen years – more than that, really – and yet, you're still right there every time he calls for help. Every _single_ time." He grinned. "Well, guess what? You're not gonna be there this time. I could snap my fingers, and Kenwall Duquesne could be dead in less than a minute." For dramatic effect, he paused, and Calleigh couldn't help but hold her breath at what might be coming next. "Of course, by the time he finds out what's happening to his little…_lambchop," _Calleigh's stomach churned violently at the way his voice wrapped around her father's nickname for her, "he'll be wishing he _were _dead."

The thought sickened Calleigh; it took every fiber of her remaining strength to hold the nausea at bay. Her struggle was clear upon her face, and Vadim grinned, his glee at that obvious in his dark eyes. "He made your life _hell_, and yet, you'd still do anything in the world for him. So…I have a question for you. I want to know…just how far would you go for little Eric?"

Calleigh blinked. "Wha – what?" she stuttered, unsure of where the line of questioning was going.

Vadim chuckled. "If I told you that Eric's life was in your hands…that your actions right here could decide whether he lives or dies, what would you do for him?" Pausing, he traced his fingers briefly to her inner thigh. Calleigh tensed visibly. "How far would you _go_, if I told you it was the _only_ way for him to survive? Would you do…anything?"

She _knew_ what he was asking – it was clear in his words, as well as the evil glimmer in his eyes. Her stomach lurched violently, filled with acid that left her nauseated. No longer did Vadim seem to be deterred by the pain she'd inflicted upon him before – his intentions for her were clear in those dark eyes. "But then again," he purred, tracing his full palm slowly along her thigh, all the way from knee to hip – Calleigh shuddered noticeably, and Vadim's grin only widened. "Maybe you wouldn't actually do anything for him at all…am I right?" Pausing, he snickered as his fingers crept their way to the belt of her robe, tugging at it only enough to ratchet up Calleigh's heart rate. She swallowed hard, suddenly petrified as her eyes locked on his hands, fingers curled menacingly around the fabric of her belt. "He _lied_ to you, didn't he?"

Clenching her jaw, Calleigh refused to dignify that with an answer. To Vadim, however, the refusal was answer enough. He shifted beside her on the bed, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, much closer – close enough that Calleigh could feel his breath against her cheek. "I _knew_ it," he breathed, and Calleigh felt her stomach lurch as he tugged a bit more deliberately at the belt – the knot, already loosened from her restless nap, gave way easily enough to leave Calleigh dizzied with fear and disgust. "He didn't want you to know _anything_ about his past, did he?" Vadim continued, seeking out her free hand with his – whether to increase the contact between them, or to further restrain her, Calleigh couldn't be sure though.

And then, his lips slowly found her jaw, latching tenaciously to a spot that, were it Eric, would have her squirming within a minute. But when Vadim applied the same slow suction with his mouth, there was no delicious shiver that rushed through her body – Calleigh only felt her blood chilling in her veins, suddenly infused with a deadly ice. She trembled, disgusted and unable to do _anything_ – she was powerless against him, and that simple realization terrified her. As though he could sense this, Vadim chuckled softly, the sound vibrating sickeningly against her skin. "But let me guess," he continued, releasing the loosened belt and instead curling his fingers in the fabric of the robe itself, "I bet he was _always_ begging you to open up to him, right? What a hypocrite, _so_ unwilling to give you anything, but ready to walk away if you didn't give him what he wanted." He released her hand then, lifting his instead to her cheek. With a touch far, _far_ rougher than Eric's, he pushed a lock of blonde back from her face, not missing Calleigh's clear flinch. "He didn't respect you at all."

That struck a nerve. "What do _you_ know about – about respect?" Calleigh bit out, faltering slightly as she fought against the growing lump of trepidation in her throat, the lump that left her struggling for every breath, fighting to deliver the necessary oxygen to her body.

Vadim merely smirked, pursing his lips again along her jaw. "Respect…" he breathed, his tone low, almost dripping with an insincerity that left Calleigh's skin crawling. "I certainly know more than your _boyfriend_, that's for sure…I know that a woman like you deserves _all_ the respect in the world," he said, dropping his hand again to her upper thigh, dipping beneath the robe. Lightly he squeezed, no barrier between his hand and her bare thigh, delighted as Calleigh tensed visibly. "I would respect your past, _and_ your privacy. You would _never_ have to tell me anything you didn't want to…"

Calleigh's eyes hardened. "Because you would just go have your _sources_ find it out anyway, right?"

Vadim only chuckled, his only acknowledgement of her angry retort. Slowly and deliberately, the hand at her robe began to move, nudging its way nauseatingly beneath the now separated flaps of fabric. Calleigh shuddered as his fingertips, rough and calloused, fell upon the silky smooth skin of her upper abdomen. And stay there they didn't – before Calleigh could even react, his fingers were sneaking higher, and he gave a soft hum of approval as they traced along the outline of the cup of her bra.

And that was simply too much. Calleigh squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach churning violently as she did all in her power to withhold the whimper of fear that was bubbling its way to her lips. As his caress boldened, Calleigh felt the sweat break upon her forehead, a physical manifestation of the horror ensnaring her body. There was little she could do with one hand restrained and his hand effectively holding her leg in place, and that fact was maddeningly clear to her. She hadn't felt this helpless with Seth and Tommy, but Vadim…there was clearly _nothing_ that was going to deter this man from taking what he wanted. He didn't need Calleigh to cover up a crime for him; he didn't need her for some other purpose. He'd told her so much – he could kill her at any time without any consequences. Involuntarily she shuddered – there could be only one real reason as to why he was keeping her alive now.

An icy block of dread plunged into her stomach as Vadim nuzzled against her throat, seeking out her racing pulse with his lips. "I wouldn't be like him," he breathed against her skin, pausing long enough to nip at her skin – none too gently at all – with his teeth. "I would _never_ lie to you, baby. Not like him."

And as he began to suck at her skin, his hands pawing at her beneath the robe, Calleigh finally felt the bonds of terror that had frozen her body break. Immediately she began to squirm, desperate to get away, _get away_ from him, struggling against the strength of his hold on her.

But the more she struggled, it seemed the stronger he became. And she remained restrained to the bed by her own cuffs; even if she _could_ get away from him, she had nowhere to go. But the adrenaline was pumping in her veins now, filling her with the uncontainable _need_ to get Vadim's hands and lips and _body_ away from her.

She lifted a surprisingly steady hand, pushing roughly at his chest, but rather than force him away, it seemed to draw him ever nearer. He smirked evilly, drawing his tongue in a sickening circle over her racing pulse. "That's it, princess," he breathed, not deterred at all as she squirmed more and more, her desperation growing. "Keep fighting. Be feisty…just makes it that much better in the end…"

_The end_. There was no question in Calleigh's mind as to what he meant by that, and, unable to stop herself, she let out a quiet whimper before her teeth latched roughly to her lips, biting hard enough to draw blood. She couldn't breathe, felt as though she were suffocating all over again. This time, though, she was on her own – Eric wasn't there to catch her if she fell. The only hands she'd find to collapse in were currently pawing at her defenseless body, ratcheting up the panic that was currently crashing over her in waves. And _panic_ it was – couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could feel little other than her angry, pounding heart and the feel of her captor much too close to her, violating and destroying her every stronghold. She fought harder, breathed harder, blindly shoved her free fist into his chest, but it was of no use – he only caught her by the wrist, his grip forceful enough to bruise as he shoved at her robe with his other hand. "You're _mine_ now, beautiful," he growled, sinking his teeth into the soft skin at the juncture of her throat and shoulder. Unable to stop herself, Calleigh cried out both in pain and slight shock, not to mention ever-increasing despair.

He pushed at her with the strength of his body, trying to force her down and onto her back, but Calleigh fought desperately, struggling against him with everything within her, despite the spots of darkness and light that danced on the back of her eyelids as her strength was depleted, taking her hope along with it. He was _always _going to be stronger than her.

No matter how much she fought, how much she struggled, it was never going to be enough in the end. He _was_ going to have her; the knee she'd shoved into his groin the last time he'd tried clearly meant nothing. He was _determined_, and in the end, she was little more than weak…

She was _weak_. The one thing she'd _sworn_ she'd never be.

The panic was overtaking her, leaving her perceiving nothing but his rough hands on her body, his sharp teeth in her skin, the sickening swirl of his tongue and the suction of his lips, leaving the acid in her stomach churning and leaving her nauseated and almost wishing he'd just killed her instead of this.

It was _too much_.

And Calleigh could do _nothing._

Couldn't _breathe_.

Couldn't _fight_.

Couldn't _stop_ him.

But she _had_ to stop him. Everything had shut down within her except for pure instinct, pure adrenaline in her veins, coursing through her body with a force that left her aching. She struggled to turn her head away from him, but it was no use – Vadim released her hand, lifting it instead to tangle his fingers in her hair, forcing her where he wanted her to be despite her yelp of pain. "Save your voice, princess," he growled. "Save it 'cause you'll be screaming _my_ name soon…"

That was _it_. Calleigh cried out again, in pain, in fear, in utter horror as he continued to assault her with his mouth, his sharp teeth marring her ivory skin. Both her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as he r body shuddered in disgust. She wouldn't know where it had come from – she was certain her mind had completely shut down. There was no thought in her head, only fear and desperation, but somehow she realized she had a free hand now. It was little comfort, considering where _his_ hands were, but it was something. She had _no _idea what it would accomplish, but she had to do _something._

_She couldn't let him do this._

It was difficult to move at all, between the force of his body and the cold metal restraining her other hand, but somehow she managed to gather her strength, centering it in her free hand. Blindly she lifted and _shoved_, not knowing where her elbow would land until she heard the definite _crack_.

Immediately Vadim grunted in pain, ceasing his actions as a hand flew quickly to his nose. He pulled himself quickly from the bed, eyes watering slightly as his nose throbbed with pain. Calleigh's elbow had connected perfectly; she wouldn't say that it was broken, but something had definitely popped, and for a brief second she felt a sense of pride at her blind aim. But before she could even open her eyes, Vadim lifted his hand, bringing his palm down _hard_ against her cheek with an audible _slap._ "Stupid _bitch!"_

Calleigh yelped; couldn't help it. Quickly she brought her free hand to her face, gingerly covering her burning, stinging skin. Her eyes flickered open only then, and Calleigh wasn't surprised to find her vision blurred with tears. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she forced herself to blink them away, and, as best as she could trembling and with only one hand free, she recovered herself with the robe, fumbling to fasten the tie about her waist.

Covering his nose, Vadim quickly turned away, his head slightly bowed in pain. "Bitch," he repeated, his voice muffled slightly by his hand. Swiftly he crossed the room, keeping one hand over his nose while the other began to rummage its way through a bag on the couch. Calleigh couldn't see him, couldn't see what he was doing, and that, combined with the enraged Russian muttering, left her with a deadly feeling of trepidation.

It was several moments before Vadim addressed her again; he straightened up, but kept his back to Calleigh, his attention clearly on something he'd retrieved from the bag. "You're playing a little too rough for me."

The retort was out of Calleigh's mouth before she could even process them; as they reached her own ears, she felt the cold fear chill even more in her veins. "What happened to all that about liking it rough, huh? Was that all talk? What, it's fine until _you're_ the one who gets hurt?"

For a moment, there was merely silence before Vadim gave a quiet chuckle. "I do _not _think you're in a position to be mouthing off right now," he said simply, and when he turned back to Calleigh, she was briefly satisfied to see the smeared blood at his nose. The satisfaction faded, however, as her eyes were drawn to the syringe he held in his right hand. He followed her gaze, chuckling slightly as her eyes widened. "It's time that we got you calmed down just a bit," he murmured, his voice little more than a low growl.

His intentions were immediately clear to Calleigh as he began to approach, filling her with another burst of panic. "What's that?" she asked, trying but failing to keep her voice from quivering.

Vadim smirked. "Doesn't matter. It's just a little something to…well, let's say it'll make you float, princess. You'll enjoy it, I promise." Pausing, he pursed his lips, almost as though in deep thought. "Then again, they say people enjoy cocaine, and you didn't, did you? Didn't like that it made you feel…so very out of control."

Calleigh swallowed hard – he was right. Those had been her very thoughts the morning after, when she'd awoken tired and dazed and completely out of it after being inadvertently dosed with cocaine all those years ago. She _had_ felt completely out of control; she'd _hated_ it. She could still remember the erratic beat of her heart, the utter wildness of the thoughts surging through her brain. There had only been one positive to the experience, and looking back, it still left her heart fluttering.

That night, Eric had stayed with her. He'd stayed through all the way to the morning, and though she'd been embarrassed, absolutely _mortified,_ nothing had touched her like the amount of concern in those deep brown eyes. She'd known he'd been somewhat of a player back then, but even then, Calleigh couldn't ignore _something_ she'd felt when he'd spoken to her, his voice soft and gentle; when he'd softly smoothed her tousled hair before dropping a kiss to the top of her head, just before he'd left that day. It was one of the many points in their friendship where Calleigh had questioned whether or not that was where she'd begun to fall for him, because she'd certainly felt the butterflies then.

She missed the butterflies.

She missed _Eric_. Missed him so badly that it tore at her heart, ripping it to pieces as she was left with little more than thoughts of him, the image of his betrayed eyes still etched firmly upon her mind.

Somewhere within her reverie, Vadim had swiftly closed the distance between them, once more lowering himself to the bed. Before Calleigh could even react, her arm was in his grasp. She yelped and struggled, but it was no use – she felt the needle puncture her skin; she felt the colorless fluid flowing directly into her veins, felt the panic that began to overtake her as she watched the syringe empty. She had no idea what it was, let alone what it would do to her. And there had been a lot of it too…

Watching the worry flit across her features, Vadim smirked. "Why don't you lay down, princess? It won't be long now…"

And it wasn't.

It began with a tingle in her fingers, though quickly it became a heaviness that spread throughout her limbs. Her heart raced in her chest, pumping so quickly, so forcefully she wasn't sure whether the dizziness that soon fell over her was from her overworked heart or from what he'd injected her with. Or likely, both.

Very quickly Calleigh found she _had_ to lay down, just to keep her stomach in check. The nausea was rising up within her again, increasing as the room began to spin, and all Calleigh could do to fight it was lay back and stare determinedly at the ceiling – it spun far less intensely than everything else in the room. Vaguely she heard Vadim's faint chuckle as she struggled to hold her own; she could hear him muttering in Russian, could see his face swim in and out of her vision as he stood above her, watching her. He reached down, brushing a dampened lock of hair back from her face as her eyelids began to grow heavy. She was fighting a losing battle trying to keep them opened, but she was terrified at what would happen if she did succumb. Even with her vision fading, blurred by spots of light and dark, she could still see his eyes filled with deviant glee. He still hadn't gotten what he wanted, but only because Calleigh was a fighter – now, as her body slowly lost the ability to fight, she couldn't help but realize there was _nothing_ she could do. If he wanted her now, he was going to _have_ her. Her stomach lurched once more as he leaned down, his lips sickeningly close to her ear as he murmured a low command in that oily voice that Calleigh knew would haunt her dreams for years to come…were she to make it out of this alive.

"Don't fight it, beautiful…just give in."

And then, she had no choice as everything went dark.


	10. ten

_**/10/**_

Clenching his fists at his sides, Eric struggled to keep his fury at bay. He stood just outside the holding cell, separated from Alexander Sharova by a single wall, and at the moment, all Eric wanted was to have more between them. One wall simply was not enough – he wanted the entire _world_ between himself and his biological father. How he could have _ever_ wanted to meet this man…it was beyond his realm of understanding now. From the hit Sharova had put on him, to the undercover work their relationship had led to, and now to this – Sharova had brought Eric nothing but pain from the moment Eric had discovered his existence.

If he'd never pursued that, there was no telling where he would be today. Maybe at home, cuddling on the couch with a sleepy Calleigh in his arms while the evening lights faded around them, leaving them blanketed in a world that belonged only to them. Or perhaps treating her to dinner – something quick taken home to share casually and cozily out on the deck, or something more elaborate at a romantic, seaside restaurant, Calleigh in a little black dress, their fingers brushing and mingling atop the table. Or even merely sitting in traffic with her, the predicament left so much less dreadful by the soft laughter that fell from her lips and filled his heart with delight.

They were memories of what had been, memories of what could've been. And now, because of the man on the other side of the glass, memories were all they might remain.

And that was simply too much to bear. Eric's heart clenched tightly, stealing his breath and leaving him swaying slightly on his feet. What Calleigh meant to him was more than Eric had ever thought possible; to lose her would utterly kill him. Lifting a hand, he squeezed at the bridge of his nose, praying for some of the tension to subside, though knowing it would not. Not until Calleigh was safe and in his arms, and from there Eric would be hard-pressed to ever let her go again.

With that thought pushing him forward, Eric took a deep, steadying breath and finally pushed the button that would open the door to him. It opened with a loud click that echoed through the eerie quiet; at the sound, Sharova looked up, and for a moment, Eric could tell that he nearly dared to stand. Clearly he thought better of it, though, and instead clasped his hands in his lap, clearing his throat before speaking in the rough voice that had slowly begun to haunt Eric over the past several weeks. "They were not telling me anything," he said slowly, carefully. "I am relieved that you are okay, мой сын."

In that moment, little annoyed Eric as deeply as that single endearment – after ignoring it for all of Eric's life, Sharova did _not_ get to claim the right now. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a quiet growl; he feared letting himself speak any louder. "I am _not_ your son." He paused, choosing to remain on his feet rather than place himself on the same bench as Sharova. "You lost the right to call me that when you abandoned my mother."

"And yet," Sharova began, a bit of a chuckle present in his words, "_you _were the one who wanted so _desperately_ to find me."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Eric countered, crossing his arms. "Clearly, that was mine." With an icy glare to Sharova, Eric leaned against the door, as much distance between the two of them as was possible. "Detective Salas said you wanted to speak to me," he said plainly, anxious to get to the point. The faster that happened, the faster he could be back in the search for Calleigh – as far as he was concerned, this was mostly just wasting time. "So stop wasting my time, and talk."

Sharova's shoulders slumped as he turned his eyes back to the dusty floor. For a moment, there was only silence – _frustrating_ silence – as he seemingly contemplated his words, words he'd been so eager to share until Eric had actually arrived. As insistent as he'd been with Detective Salas about speaking to his son, it was incredibly difficult to summon up the words now. "It was…never supposed to go this far," he began cryptically.

Eric barely held back the urge to roll his eyes – something that, much like everything else, left him thinking of Calleigh. "What do you mean, it was never supposed to go this far?" he growled, feeling his heart already pumping angrily against his ribcage.

The other man gave what appeared to Eric to be a nonchalant shrug. "There was a plan. _This_ was not the plan – the plan was a little less…messy than this." He shook his head in disgust. "There are _so_ many holes in this right now, so many problems that could have been _avoided…_" Though Eric didn't speak, Sharova could sense the question lingering in the air, just waiting to either be voiced by Eric or answered by him – and as the silence dragged on, the former became less and less probable. "By that, I mean that Calleigh…she never had to be kidnapped. She never had to go through the horror I _know_ she's going through."

For a brief second, Eric thought he might've heard genuine contrition in his father's voice, though as Sharova met his eyes once more, he was certain it was nothing more than an illusion. There was no repentance in his eyes – they were hard, icy, and Eric couldn't help but shiver just looking into them. "Then why _is_ she going through – through this?" he bit out, unable to even imagine the horrors that Sharova had alluded to.

"Things got complicated," he answered cryptically. "They – the Russians, they were absolutely furious with you - first, for uncovering their secrets, and secondly, for the little undercover investigation. And because of that, they were also furious with _me. _And sometimes, anger clouds things - judgments, decisions._"_

Eric scoffed. "Why were they furious with _you?_ You were working _with_ them, not against them."

Sharova's answer served as answer to both the question and the accusation - apparently, there was no longer any need to hide his true loyalties. "I brought you in," he said simply, eyes locked to the far wall. "Regardless of my allegiance, none of this would have happened if I hadn't gotten you out of the detention center that day. _That_ was the day that ruined everything, because as soon as that happened, everything changed. Despite the fact that in over thirty years I have never done anything for you, you felt indebted to me over this one little thing. You felt the need to, ah, _repay_ me by getting me _out_ of the mob, which meant more time spent around me. And then, that private investigator saw the link that connected us. Because of all that, she asked you to play double agent, to use the information you'd already gathered on the Russians to try and gather more. And you agreed."

Eric gritted his teeth. He'd been _so_ naïve to think he could trust this man – though he knew now that it had all been an act, Sharova had seemed sincere in wanting to escape from the mob. And because of that, because of a couple afternoons of father-son "bonding," Eric had convinced himself that Sharova _wasn't_ like the rest of them. His plan to deliver information to Yelina had somehow melded into a plan to break his father out of the mob, and Eric had shared that much with Sharova. Looking back, it had been the most _foolish_ mistake he'd made, despite seeming brilliant at the time. And it might've been brilliant, had the Russians not known from the very beginning. "And this whole time, you were playing me too," he growled quietly, rubbing frustratedly at his eyes.

"True what they say, eh?" Sharova smirked. "Like father, like son."

Eric shook his head. "Don't you _dare." _He crossed his arms about his chest, fixing Sharova with a hard stare as he brought the conversation back to the only discussion he wanted to have right now. "So they're mad at you. They're mad at me. Why not kill us, then? Why take – why take Calleigh?"

Nodding, Sharova smiled grimly. "In the end, I am too valuable to them," he said flatly.

He didn't continue willfully, and Eric stamped his foot, his impatience mounting. "And?"

Sharova sighed. "And you…well." He hesitated for a moment; when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost as though fearful of anyone else hearing. "I have been with them long enough to know that they prefer torment to death. Where is the torment in killing you? Certainly they _could_ torture you, but then when you die, it's over."

Though he'd desperately hoped against it, Eric had been right all along - this only proved all of his worst fears. "They took her to get to me." Swallowing hard, he struggled to keep his voice even and strong, though with his next words, he was certain he'd failed on both counts. "But how – how did they even know about her?"

At this, Sharova had the audacity to snicker; hearing that, Eric felt his blood boil. "My boy, you were _far_ from discreet with her." Meeting his eyes, Sharova could see the confusion clouding his gaze, and rather than wait for Eric to ask, he took the initiative. "There might have been…a photograph. A photograph that fell into the wrong hands."

That was all too familiar to Eric – he remembered all too well the little spy who had been taking pictures of everyone in the lab. Marking their whereabouts, tracking their every activity, even private, candid moments that no one else was supposed to see – all of that had been captured on film, and Eric _still_ felt the tug of jealousy that had surged through him as his eyes had fallen on the photograph of Calleigh and the horse trainer. But even more than that was the anger, the desire to protect her. He'd had the ugly truth shoved in his face – Calleigh was a public figure; she was well-known in Miami, to both good guys and bad, and she didn't try to hide away. The photographs of her showed just how easily she could be found, and this…this showed how easily she could be taken.

It left him shuddering, drawing his tongue over parched lips in an effort to moisten them. "A picture of what, exactly?" he asked quietly.

Sharova at least had the good grace to duck his head, averting his eyes as he spoke. "You and Calleigh. Together. That day outside the detention center." He paused, and though there was absolutely no need to, he clarified further. "She kissed you."

She had. And with a heavy heart, Eric found himself reliving the moment, watching it unfold all over again in vivid technicolor, right before his eyes. He could still feel the elation he'd felt at realizing she was waiting for him; he could still feel the warmth, the softness of her body in his arms, the tight grip with which she wrapped her own arms around him. Her sweet perfume invaded his senses, causing his heart to flutter and his breath to catch. And even more than that, it was the softness of her lips against his that left his body electrified with delight; such a soft, innocent kiss had never left him so affected before. And then had come the second one, even better than the first.

But preceding the second one, Eric couldn't help but hear again the words he'd uttered, the vocal wish she had quieted with the touch of her lips.

"_I don't want anything to happen to you."_

It had been his deepest fear, and it had come dreadfully true. Again he shuddered, searching desperately for his voice – during his reverie, he'd seemingly lost it. When he finally found the ability to speak again, Eric's words were little more than a whisper – it was all he could muster. "Who took the picture?"

He'd been fairly certain that he already knew the truth. Sharova didn't answer; his silence, however, was answer enough, and suddenly Eric felt his composure shatter, what little bit of it had remained. "You son of a bitch…" he growled.

Sharova's head snapped up, his eyes finding Eric's furious ones. "What I had to do was already set in stone. I had _no_ choice, Eric –"

"Oh, there is _always_ a choice," Eric snapped. "Simple choice between right and wrong. All you had to do was _walk away._"

"And then you and I would _both_ be dead." Eric opened his mouth to retort, but hesitated as Sharova suddenly stood, his eyes never leaving Eric's. "There are more, as well," he admitted quietly, "though I had _no_ part in these." With that, he reached into a pocket, retrieving a small set of crumpled, folded sheets of photography paper, and suddenly Eric was fearful of what he would find on the other side of them. Sharova hesitated for a moment before slowly crossing the room to Eric, who couldn't help but tense in anxiety. Somehow, though, he managed to extend a hand for the pictures.

Sharova took a few steps back, though he didn't reclaim his seat on the bench. But Eric didn't notice – his attention had been solely claimed by the folded pictures Sharova had placed in his hands. One by one, he began to unfold them. The very first one was the one that Sharova had alluded to, and Eric couldn't help but feel his heart clench in agony as his eyes took it in. He remembered that day well, outside the detention center. Inside, he hadn't lingered, anxious to get back to his freedom, to _Calleigh_. His fingers trembled slightly as he held the photograph, such a private moment caught forever on film. The longer he gazed at it, it was as though he could still feel her lips against his, a soft, sweet, perfectly innocent kiss. Her hands lingered at his chest while his circled her waist, keeping her close despite the fact that she had no intentions of going very far.

He swallowed hard, forcing his trembling fingers to quickly shuffle through the rest. There they were, enjoying a quiet evening stroll on the beach, bare feet and entwined fingers. There they were, just a couple of hours before night would fully set in, enjoying a candlelit dinner on her deck – just the thought of _any_ of these men being near her home left Eric's stomach lurching. And there were simple photos, taken of the two of them at crime scenes when he'd stolen a too long glance at her or vice versa.

"I had nothing to do with those," Sharova repeated quietly, witnessing the pain flickering through Eric's eyes.

"It doesn't matter. You started the cascade," Eric replied, his fingers trembling as he held the photos, his eyes continuing to take them in. By now, his heart was bruised so badly that he wasn't sure there would ever be a way to heal it – and definitely not unless Calleigh was back with him, safe and sound. And though he'd gotten the answer already, he couldn't help but despairingly ask again. "Why did they want her? What did she _ever_ do to any of you?"

Sharova shook his head, affected by neither the agony nor the venom in Eric's voice. "I told you. It was never about what _she_ did. Calleigh…she is merely a pawn. An unimportant piece in the grand scheme of things. Expendable. The quicker you realize that, the better off you'll be in the long run." He exhaled deeply. "Taking Calleigh was, hands down, the _best_ way to get to you. Killing you accomplishes nothing – but taking Calleigh…that ensures your torment for the rest of your life." He nodded toward the photographs in Eric's hands. "It was clear just how much she meant to you – _that's_ why they took her. Now, what's done is done, and you have to get over her before losing her _does_ ruin your life. That is the _only_ way to beat them."

"How could you _ever_ think that losing her would ever _not_ ruin my life?" Eric snapped, incredulous at Sharova's assumption – that he could just "get over" Calleigh. Just like that. It _wasn't_ like that at all; nothing could be farther from the truth. "Oh yeah, I forgot – it's _easy _for you to walk away unaffected," he bit out, a fresh burst of anger infusing into his veins. "Well, you know what? I can't just _forget_ about Calleigh the way you _forgot_ about my mother."

Eric was surprised to see it, but Sharova actually flinched. "Don't speak of what you don't know," he hissed. "You don't know the circumstances. And if Calleigh is _anything_ like your mother, you'd be _smart_ to turn your back on her. These women…they're all the same. Manipulative bitches. And if it weren't for me, you'd still be stuck here, waiting around for her to turn on you, just like your mother did to me."

His insulting words left Eric livid – it was one thing to attack Calleigh alone, but Calleigh _and_ his mother? There was _no _way Eric could stand for that. "Why you –"

"She was going to die anyway, Eric," Sharova blurted, cutting Eric completely off. "It was just a matter of how. By whose hands. And if you had not interfered that day at the warehouse…"

Angry, dark eyes met crystal ice blue without wavering at all. "Interfered?"

Sharova shook his head. "You weren't supposed to be there. Because you were, the entire plan had to be immediately reworked."

Eric growled in utter frustration. "You keep talking about some stupid plan. What the hell do you mean?"

"The police were supposed to be lured to the warehouse that day," Sharova began, still effortlessly holding Eric's eyes. "Only the…expendable Russians were there – that's why we kept running into the others in the Everglades. They were waiting for us, for you. The expendable ones could die – we knew that there would be a firefight. Only…I was supposed to take part in it." He paused, mildly frightened by the fury that filled Eric's eyes, his entire face. "You weren't supposed to be at the warehouse that day," he repeated. "And I…" He nodded. "Calleigh was never supposed to be kidnapped. I was supposed to kill her that day – that was my assignment." He paused. "And when I failed, when I ended up here and completely unable to do it, the job fell to Vadim Nabokov."

It echoed in his ears, over and over again, and Eric couldn't help but pale at Sharova's confession. His eyes immediately hardened – how he had _ever_ trusted this man, Eric didn't know. As far as he was concerned, it was one thing to toy with him – Eric could take whatever the Russians dealt out; had been doing it for months. But it was an entirely different thing to bring an innocent bystander, to bring the woman he cared about more than anything else in his life into it – at this point, he'd accepted the fact that he couldn't expect _anything _from this man. But this was his _father_, his flesh and blood, the man who had contributed to his life…and he'd been assigned virtually to strip his life – _Calleigh – _right away from him. It was a whole new level of betrayal, and Eric couldn't help but feel the icy realization drop into his stomach. "Go to hell," he breathed, fury and pure adrenaline coursing through his veins."Go to _hell."_

"You would be nothing but better off without her," Sharova growled ominously. "Let the Russians keep her – it's the only way –"

Eric snarled, not even giving the other man the chance to finish. "It's _your_ fault that they've got her, and she didn't do a _damn_ thing to _any_ of you! It's _your_ fault that she's missing!"

Sharova drew himself to his full height, an angry fire in his eyes, though it came nowhere close to matching the fury in Eric's eyes. "I did _nothing. _I told you – I never got the chance -_"_

"Don't you _dare_ try to play innocent with me now," Eric retorted, his voice raised loud enough to echo off the walls. "You started all of this when you put the hit out on me –"

"_You_ started it when you couldn't leave well enough alone!" Sharova interrupted, his voice just as loud as Eric's. "You had everything your mother wanted for you – you _had_ your nice American life. And yet, it wasn't enough for you, was it?"

"Do _not_ turn this around on me," Eric growled. "All I wanted was the truth. Which I _deserved_ after all these years. You _owed_ me that."

"I told you before – I owe you _nothing_."

"You son of a bitch." At this point, Eric's shoulders were heaving as he struggled to breathe. Exhausted and frustrated, this fight was taking more out of him than he actually had to give, but still he refused to back down. Not with Calleigh's life on the line. "Calleigh was right about you all along." His heart ached as he felt the regret over not listening to her surge through him.

At that, Sharova merely smirked. "So that's how it is, huh? You're going to take her word over mine? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be _able_ to make that choice – you wouldn't _be_ here." He took a step closer to Eric, shaking his head as Eric tensed visibly. "Trust me. You're better off. If they have _her, _they won't want you, and that is what's important."

"And that's supposed to make it okay?" Eric retorted angrily.

"Eric. You _have_ to let her go." He paused, forcing his eyes to convey desperation instead of anger. "For the sake of your own life."

Eric was unperturbed by the implications. "I can't do that. I _won't_ do that."

"Don't you see?" Sharova hissed, stepping closer. "You're playing _right _into their game."

"You mean, _your_ game?"

Sharova shook his head. "You don't get it at all, do you? It's _you_ they want dead in the end, but they would be even happier to know you'll suffer for the rest of your life. They took her because it was the easiest way to ruin your life, to make you pay. They knew you were playing them all along –"

"Because you _told_ them –"

Sharova ignored the interruption. "You either have to pay with your life or your happiness. You _cannot_ sacrifice your own life – I _won't_ let you. I _won't _let _my son do that._"

"I told you before - I am _not your son!"_ Eric growled, fists clenched angrily at his sides. "And this conversation is over." He was barely keeping his cool at all anymore; he could feel the sweat beading upon his forehead; could feel his body taxed by labored breaths and heartbeats, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he didn't get out of there then, things weren't going to end well. "We're _done." _With that, he whipped quickly around, his every intention to get as far away from this man as possible.

But before his hand even reached the door, Sharova's fingers were clutching tightly at his wrist…and Eric finally snapped. Faster than before, he spun around, and before Sharova could even process the action, Eric's fist was connecting to his jaw with a loud _crack_. Sharova stumbled back, both from the strength behind Eric's hit, and from his own shock at the action. Somehow he managed to stay on his feet, lifting a hand to his throbbing jaw as his eyes glared angrily at Eric. "You don't _get_ it," he accused furiously, his voice slightly muffled. "Calleigh is _nothing_ but a worthless pawn in this game. You _cannot_ be reckless for her."

He knew his hand would be bruised later, but right now, Eric couldn't even feel the pain in his still clenched fist – the adrenaline pumping furiously through his body was numbing all but the all-consuming anger he felt, and Eric was certain there was _nothing_ that could numb _that_ right now. "Don't you _dare_ tell me what I can or can't do," he growled, his eyes shooting the sharpest of daggers at Sharova, and he could only hope that his fury was even _partially_ conveyed by his gaze. "I will do _whatever_ it takes to get her back," he continued, struggling to catch his breath. "If that means being reckless, if it means putting my own life on the line, then so be it."

"Eric, you do not know what you're saying –"

"Don't I?" Eric cut him off, taking a step toward the other man. He couldn't help but feel slightly smug as Sharova cowered, clearly fearful of another fist to the jaw. It was all Eric could do not to shove the other man, his _father_, against the far wall, his hands clutched in the collar of the shirt he wore. Somehow he managed to hold himself in check though, keeping a fair distance between the two of them – a _safe_ distance for both of them. "I know _exactly_ what I'm saying," Eric continued, his voice low, deadly, almost foreign to his own ears. "She was right about you all along," he repeated. "The _biggest_ mistake of my life was choosing you instead of her. I chose to lie to her, and I'll pay for that for a long time coming." He paused, concentrating for but a moment on simply breathing. "And I will do _anything_ to bring her home; do you hear me? Anything."

Again he stopped, and when he spoke again, Eric's voice was barely audible in the small room, despite echoing loudly in the ears of its two occupants. "I love her. I _love_ her." He gave a derisive scoff, glaring in disgust at the man who claimed to be his father. "But that…that's nothing you could _ever_ understand."

With that, Eric stormed swiftly out of the cell, not even affording a single look back. Blood might be blood, but that no longer mattered to Eric. He was _done_.

He would _not_ make that mistake again.


	11. eleven

_**/11/**_

A loud series of knocks broke through the relative silence in the dark hotel room, though Vadim didn't care too much about that – ten times louder, and they still wouldn't wake the blonde on the bed. It'd been three hours, and he was certain there was still enough of the drug in her system to keep her out for at least another one, if not two. That would be plenty of time to accomplish the next piece of his scheme.

Of course, he wouldn't have had to ponder the time at all if his counterpart had decided to arrive on time. Vadim gave a scowl as he stood from the chair at Calleigh's bed, where he'd taken up an odd sort of a vigil for the past three hours. He didn't want her _dead_, not yet at least. That wasn't a part of the plan, and so he'd taken up the painstaking responsibility of monitoring her breathing, making sure she didn't lapse into a slumber from which she would not wake.

Certainly, there was no fun in _that_, but then again, this whole plan hadn't been entirely too fun anyway, if he was completely honest with himself. Vadim had the bruises to prove that much. Calleigh Duquesne was clearly nothing if not feisty. But there was feisty, and then there was resistant, and Calleigh had quickly crossed that line. And Vadim did regret having to drug her – that hadn't been part of the plan, but in the end, it worked in his favor. He'd garnered himself a few hours to think without that obnoxious accent of hers piercing through whatever brilliant scheme he'd been working his mind through. Granted, much of the master plan was already set in stone, but it was the little things that Vadim took great pleasure in bringing about – particularly the little things that would leave Eric Delko seething with anger, frustrated with his complete inability to find the woman he loved.

Yes, that was the part that left Vadim sneering gleefully.

It was that sneer that decorated his features as he leisurely crossed to the door, drawing it open without so much as a single glance through the peephole – he knew without a doubt who it would be, though.

On the other side stood a much shorter man than Vadim, clearly much younger as well, but obviously just as much, if not more, Russian. With his lightly-stubbled face and his casually unruly short dark hair, he seemed a stark contrast to much of the rest of the Russian mob, or at least to Vadim. His eyes, though dark and determined, also carried a bit of hesitance though, something _very_ unlike anything exhibited by the rest of the mob.

It was that hint of hesitance that left Vadim narrowing his eyes at the other man, combined with his clear lack of care for punctuality. "You're late, Alexei," he observed quietly.

The simple accusation left Alexei bristling noticeably, though he managed to pull himself somehow to his full height – the last thing he wanted was to attract the other Russian's ire. "It's Miami. In case you hadn't noticed, there is _traffic_," he muttered, crossing his arms. Forcing himself to hold Vadim's eyes, Alexei bit roughly at the inside of his cheek – this was _not_ where he wanted to be. Not at this hotel, not in the mob at all. Silently he damned his father for the seemingly unbreakable hold the man seemed to have over him. Alexei was only doing this because he'd been born into it, because his father had refused to let him out – _he_, however, wanted none of it.

And this was just another tedious assignment that would get him nowhere – Alexei wasn't even sure what the point of being a part of the group was. Nothing he did was ever going to advance him; his father made sure of that – that was his way of keeping tabs on his son at all times. And now, because of all that, he got to play babysitter.

To say he resented his own heritage would be a drastic understatement. He _hated_ where he'd come from; hated all it seemed he was destined to be. But it seemed as though his life had been set out for him from the moment of his birth; now, at twenty-four, he felt helpless to change that. And he certainly didn't wish to _oppose_ the Russians, not after the scheme of revenge they had out for Eric Delko.

For now, though, he shook that from his mind – he'd spent far too long lingering over his predicament, and would likely spend plenty of time lingering on it in the future. Like it or not, he still had a job to do, and it wasn't as simple as merely not getting paid if he didn't do it – if he chose not to do what they demanded of him, Alexei could very well lose his life. To fight off the shudder that threatened to course through him, Alexei pushed his way into the room, past Vadim and to the darkened bedroom where Calleigh lay bound and unconscious on the bed.

Even in the low light, Alexei could see that she was beautiful, but that wasn't what caught his attention in that moment. "What did you _do_ to her?" he asked, his eyes wide. Her cheeks were filled with a deathly pallor and, from where he stood, each breath appeared to come with extreme effort, as much as she could expend while out of it. And if Alexei wasn't mistaken, the sleeve of her white robe appeared marred by drying blood. On top of that _was_ the fact that she lay there unmoving, unconscious, and though he wasn't privy to all of the details of this assignment, he knew that wasn't part of the plan. "She looks like hell, man."

Clearly, that mattered not to Vadim. He gave a shrug of nonchalance, idly checking the time on the display of his phone. "She'll live." He paused, glancing briefly to Alexei, long enough to catch his eyes. "Perhaps barely, but she'll live."

Curiously, Alexei crossed to the bed, first laying the back of his hand against Calleigh's pale, clammy cheek, then gently parting her eyelids with a finger, checking the response of her pupils – his aspirations, before being so rudely forced into the mob, had been to go medical school; it was just another thing his heritage had stolen from him. "What'd you do, knock her out?"

Lazily, Vadim rolled his eyes. "Don't act like it's the most gruesome thing you've ever heard of," he said dryly, watching the scene before him unfold with a dark sort of amusement. "She had it coming – my little princess here plays dirty." He paused, allowing Alexei to finish his brief survey of the blonde on the bed before reiterating his earlier statement. "She'll be _fine_."

Alexei scoffed. "Well, you'd better hope so, that's all I know."

"Let me tell you something about Calleigh Duquesne," Vadim began, perching himself on the edge of the table. "The woman is one _tough_ little vixen. Odds are, she could take ten times the amount of what I gave her – it likely only knocked her out now because, well, just look at the circles under those eyes. She's _clearly_ not sleeping –"

"And that couldn't _possibly_ be because you have her chained half-naked to the bed," Alexei muttered, under his breath.

If Vadim heard, he gave no indication of it. "All I wanted was to…help her along, you see," he continued, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. "She was out like a light before she could even _begin_ to fight."

"Yeah, because clearly she has the strength to fight at all."

Vadim snorted. "Don't underestimate her, child. Underneath the angel, there's a little demon waiting to break out." He paused, his eyes traveling disdainfully over Alexei's slender frame. "She could take you, no problem. Unfortunately…" he sighed, rolling his eyes as if disgusted, "you were the only one available to, ah, babysit her."

"Of course I was," Alexei muttered under his breath, his voice utterly dripping with scorn. He knew the truth – it wasn't that he was the only one available; it was that he was simply the only one without the rank to say no. His eyes returned once more to the unconscious blonde on the bed; try as he might, he simply couldn't see any of the descriptions Vadim was throwing around about her. No fighter, no demon, no tough little vixen. His eyes merely saw the fragile, tormented beauty, and rather than animosity toward her, Alexei only felt pity. He might know very little about what was going on, but he knew with absolute certainty that she didn't deserve this. "Why does she even need a babysitter anyway?" he asked, his eyes back to Vadim. "She's out cold. She's cuffed down. I _highly_ doubt she's going anywhere."

Vadim lifted a brow, a silent warning for Alexei to stop questioning his plans. "I know her history – every bit of it, even the parts of her sordid past that I wish had been left hidden," he explained, giving an exaggerated shudder. "I'm not at all convinced that she _won't_ try anything funny. Your job…is to make sure that doesn't happen." He smirked. "If it _does_ happen…well, you know the consequences."

With that warning, Vadim checked his bag, making sure all the necessary components for the next part of his scheme were there. When he was certain that he had all he would need, he slung the bag carelessly over his shoulder, glancing back to Alexei who had taken a seat at Calleigh's bedside. Swiftly he crossed to the door, firing back one last warning before he was gone.

"Oh, and don't you dare touch her," he snarled. "She's _mine."_

_..  
_

Eric was _furious._ So furious that he couldn't remember a time he'd been _more_ furious.

He'd been angry when he'd first found out about Sharova. He'd been angry when he found out what the man had done to his mother. He'd been angry so many times at the man over the past year, even before the first time he'd come face to face with him. But this…it went beyond anger. This was pure, unadulterated _fury. _There was no doubt in Eric's mind that, had he not gotten himself out of Sharova's presence when he had, he would've ripped the other man apart. His father or not, there was _no_ part of Eric that could simply stand there and listen to the man talk about the woman he loved like that, and _especially_ not with the current danger that Calleigh was surely in. Mere anger did not even do the feeling justice.

It was as if Eric couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything save for the angry beat of his heart and the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. Sharova had _tricked_ him. Eric had trusted the man, had put his life and career on the line to try and find a way for Sharova to get out of the mob, though it turned out the other man didn't really want out at all. And, not only had he tried to pin the blame for what had happened _before_ Eric on Eric's mother, but he'd also admitted to being the one assigned to kill Calleigh. To _kill her_. To take her away from him _forever_. Blinded by rage at the words, he'd no choice but to storm out of that room before doing something he'd eventually regret.

And clearly, the fury emanated from his very being as Eric stalked through the hallways, people in the line of potential fire quickly clearing out of his way. He had no idea where his destination might be – he simply needed to be as far from the holding cells as possible, and the quicker that happened, the better. There were any number of areas in the lab in which he could make himself useful right now. Trace could use him, fingerprints could use him, ballistics could use him…but he couldn't _possibly_ be there now, and the very fact that the suggestion had popped into his mind sent a sudden burst of pain through him, pain which he quickly channeled into anger, just for the fact that it was easier to deal with.

He'd left Sharova alone after a single punch, though he'd _so_ wished he'd stayed for more. It wasn't enough to assuage his pent-up frustration. His nerves were practically vibrating with tension, strings pulled so tightly that just the slightest pressure might leave them snapping, recoiling violently. He'd never felt like this before – so very angry, and so completely out of control of anything. He helped out where he could, but what use was it? All he could really do was stand by and watch, waiting for the dice to fall however they might. And that was simply not acceptable to Eric. He needed to _do_ something. He needed some news; he desperately needed to hear something good before he completely broke down. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, and the last time he'd seen the one person who could make everything better, she'd been shooting at him as he sped away with a man he now hated with every fiber of his being.

A familiar face approached him in the rather deserted hallway, though it took a moment for Eric to place the lab tech's face. He was a night-shifter, an extra brought in to help with the sudden shorthandedness of the lab – with Calleigh missing, and Eric technically at arm's length of any current case, the day shift was in need of some extra assistance. He couldn't even remember the tech's name, but the important detail, the _only_ important detail, was clear to Eric after a moment's thought. "Hey. You," he nearly growled, unable to sheathe the anger that remained directed at Sharova.

Startled, the tech faltered in his steps, cowering visibly at the magnitude of the fire in Eric's eyes. He'd been working with the crime lab for nearly two months – he was new, still walking on eggshells, still wary of any mistakes that might appear in his work, even when checked over twice, sometimes thrice. He'd encountered no problems thus far, but now, with Eric Delko of the day shift practically growling at him, he was quickly retracing his every step, wondering what he might have forgotten.

He opened his mouth in preparation of a reply, but Eric quickly beat him to the punch. "You find anything?" he questioned low, nearly deafened by the angry rush of blood through his ears.

"I – what?" he stammered, momentarily unsure of what Eric was talking about.

"The car," Eric huffed, feeling his patience seep slowly out of him as he spoke. "The car from the swamp – the one that you were supposed to finish working with. Did you _find_ anything?"

"I – I don't know, man, I just got back from break –"

At those words, something within Eric completely snapped. They were completely different, but somewhere between his ears and his brain, the words were transformed into something eerily reminiscent of what Dan Cooper had had the gall to say to him a year and a half before. Before he could even catch himself, before he could even think, Eric had the unsuspecting lab tech backed against the nearest wall; he had no hands on him, hadn't touched him at all, though his fist did find itself against the wall just mere centimeters away from the tech's head. "On _break?_" He snarled, unaware of the small crowd that had paused in their own actions to watch the drama unfold. "One of our own is _missing_, possibly hurt, maybe even _dead or dying_, and you're out enjoying what, a vanilla latte and a banana nut muffin? Look around; _nobody_ else is slacking off today, so –"

"_Delko!"_

Approaching quickly was a clearly livid Natalia, but Eric didn't back away – he couldn't. Not until he felt her fingers wrap around his arm, lightly yet forcefully guiding him away from the wide-eyed tech against the wall. Natalia turned her eyes to him briefly, the cold orbs boring a hole in the poor lab tech. "I'd suggest you get back to work."

"Didn't you see?" he sputtered, glancing from Natalia to Eric. "He- he tried to –"

"Let it go," Natalia interjected, her voice low. Eric wasn't too sure what happened in the moment that followed – he couldn't see, but seemingly something had silently passed between Natalia and the tech; either that, or the cold fire in her eyes was enough to frighten him into submission. Eric couldn't help but smirk at that – Natalia wasn't a woman he wanted to be on the wrong side of.

With a low grumble under his breath, the hassled tech glanced once more to Eric before quickly heading on his way. And then Natalia turned to Eric, her gaze deflecting momentarily to his arm. "Locker room. Now," she demanded quietly, mindful of the small crowd that had gathered.

"Natalia –"

"_Now_, Eric." Between her voice and her eyes, there was absolutely no room for argument. She _knew_ he was upset; knew he was worried sick, and clearly angry about something now. But that did _not_ mean she could let him storm around the lab taking it out on the rest of their coworkers. "Do _not_ make me say it again."

To his credit, he didn't argue it further – despite his boiling anger, Eric was smart enough not to cross an angry Natalia. Leaving the small crowd behind, the two of them quickly found themselves in the quiet solitude of the locker room, the flickering fluorescents above highlighting the exhaustion present in both of their faces. As the door closed behind them with an echoing slam, Eric strode purposefully to the opposite end of the room, needing the extra breathing room.

Hanging back by the door, Natalia closed her eyes, silently exhaling a deep breath, giving Eric a moment before finally speaking so as not to sound _too_ exasperated. "Okay. Look, Eric," she began, fixing him with a stern gaze, though it also managed to convey the understanding she felt beneath her professional exterior. "I know time is of the essence here, and I know the longer we go without hearing anything, the more frustrating it gets. And I _know_ you're worried about Calleigh. I know you're scared – hell, _I'm_ scared, so I can't even _begin_ to imagine what it's like for you."

"You're right – you can't," Eric interjected, earning himself a harsh glare from Natalia. It was effective though; pursing his lips, Eric crossed his arms and bit his tongue as she continued.

"I'm not trying to argue that, Eric," she insisted firmly. "I'm just telling you that it doesn't matter _how_ worried you are – you _can't_ storm around the lab like this. You can't go around throwing random lab techs into walls because that's _not_ going to help Calleigh at all, and you _know_ that. I told you this already and I'm telling you again – if you don't start looking at this like the professional you are, then you'll be off of this case before you can even blink."

That had calmed Eric before, but this time, it only seemed to rile him further. "Professional?" he repeated, incredulous that Natalia would even suggest that in the wake of what had just occurred. "I'm not the one slacking off - that kid took a break, Natalia. A _break_. Calleigh's missing, or – or maybe even worse, and he decides a Starbucks run is in order? How is that going to help Calleigh?"

"Look, Eric," Natalia interrupted, taking advantage of Eric's pause. "You need to take a seat and _calm down_, because you're sure not helping Calleigh right now. Don't you think she'd be disappointed to see you acting like this, not keeping your wits about you and letting this guy get under your skin like this?"

It was a low blow and Natalia knew it, but at that moment, she wasn't sure how else to possibly get through to him. Certainly it seemed to take the wind out of his sails as her words sunk in; his shoulders slumped as his anger faded visibly, replaced by an almost helplessness that tore at Natalia's heart. "I'm sorry, Eric," she said softly, turning to her locker, "but the most important thing you can do right now is stay focused, because that's what these guys want – they _want_ you to lose your mind, and you know that. Don't play into their game." She paused, giving her words enough time to permeate his mind. "Now, do you want to tell me why blood is soaking through your sleeve, or am I going to find a couple more scandalized nightshift techs running around the lab, perhaps with black eyes?"

"That's an exaggeration." Eric sighed heavily, though to his credit he seemed to surrender, slowly lowering himself to the bench between the rows of lockers. He hadn't really felt the pain until Natalia had pointed it out to him – now, he could feel the throbbing deep in his muscles; he could feel the stickiness of the blood as it dried, practically adhering his sleeve to his skin. Apparently the force of his fist connecting with Sharova's jaw had ripped open the wound at his shoulder where Calleigh's bullet had grazed him. And now he could feel the burn in his arm whenever he moved it; experimentally he attempted to roll his shoulder, though stopped midway with a pained wince.

He offered nothing else, and Natalia sighed, rummaging around for the first aid kit she kept in her locker. "I don't suppose I'd be too far off if I guessed that you'd had a run-in with Sharova." Kit in hand, she turned back to him, noting that at least he had the good grace to look mildly sheepish. "And I guess it ended badly."

Eric sighed. "Understatement," he said gruffly, craning his neck to inspect the damage at his arm. Natalia was right – he'd been so consumed by his anger that he'd been oblivious to both the pain and the sensation of blood; as he'd stalked through the hallways, the wound had steadily oozed, soaking through the fabric of his shirt. It was ruined, that much was for certain.

Natalia seemed to realize that as well. She took a seat next to him, facing him with the first aid kit on the bench between them. "Take off your shirt," she demanded simply, opening the kit and making sure it was stocked well enough.

It was an abrupt command, one that took Eric slightly by surprise. "What?"

She lifted her eyes to him, raising an eyebrow. "I can't get to the wound when it's half-covered by your sleeve, and if you just push it up, you're going to end up with blood everywhere," she said matter-of-factly. "Besides, you can't go around the lab wearing a bloodied shirt – evidence contamination, and all."

Quietly he obeyed, and Natalia frowned as his fingers went to the buttons on his shirt. The growing discoloration in his knuckles was terribly apparent – between that, and the reopened gash at his shoulder, Natalia didn't need him to explain just _how_ badly his run-in with Sharova had gone. She knew _exactly _what had happened. "Oh, Eric…" she murmured, slightly shaking her head.

Eric huffed, completely aware of the disapproval in Natalia's tone, as well as her eyes on his bruising knuckles. "You want to say something about it?" he challenged quietly, refusing to meet her eyes as he pulled his arms from his sleeves, leaving him in only his undershirt. Unconsciously he clenched and released his fist a couple of times, wincing just slightly in response to the pain.

Natalia shook her head, though remained silent as she rummaged through the first aid kit. It was incredibly primitive compared to the medical care that Eric needed, but Natalia knew better than to argue with him right now. "Nothing more than what I've already said," she murmured, frowning as she went to work on his wound.

Scoffing coldly, Eric fixed his eyes upon an arbitrary spot on the far wall as Natalia worked. Vaguely his ears caught her quiet insistence for him to go to the ER, that he really needed stitches more so than a simple covering. "That's what Yelina said," he mumbled in return.

"Well, Yelina is right," Natalia said, furrowing her brow in concentration. It might have been merely a graze, but it was a fairly deep one at that. She frowned, fearful of the prospect of infection – especially with as long as Eric had been out there in the Everglades. "Who knows what kinds of bacteria are swimming around in this," she muttered. "You're going to end up with one terrible infection."

Again Eric huffed – Natalia was beginning to get tired of that quite quickly. "It's fine."

"Yeah. I can tell. You do know that now you sound like Calleigh, right?" Natalia quipped before becoming serious once more. "I'm doing my best to clean it out, and I'm going to bandage it up in a minute, but I can't do for you what you need," she continued, her voice soft. "You're going to have to get this checked out eventually, whether you like it or not."

"When I know Calleigh is safe." There was no room for argument there, and with a deep sigh, Natalia simply allowed it to drop. She knew nothing she said was going to change his mind; instead, she concentrated on the task at hand. It wasn't until Natalia had finally wrapped his arm in gauze that Eric spoke again; this time, rather than anger, his voice was filled with a badly concealed fear. "He was going to kill her, you know."

"What?"

"Sharova," Eric growled. "He was – he was supposed to kill her." The words came as a shock to Natalia; she stared slack-jawed at him, though for the first time she didn't need to prompt him to continue. "That was how they were going to get to me. The warehouse – it was all a ruse to get us there, and if I hadn't been with Sharova…he was supposed to kill Calleigh when she arrived at the scene." He shook his head, lifting a hand to rub at his tired eyes. "How's that for irony? I kept her from being killed, but I got her kidnapped instead." _And she still might die_ - that thought, though, Eric left unspoken.

"You left out the most important part, though," Natalia pointed out, watching him with concern in her eyes – she was worried about him, for more reasons than one. "You're going to get her back. And, for what it's worth," she added, patting his elbow in reassurance, "I probably would've hit the bastard too."

That comment got the tiniest of smiles from Eric – it was just a fleeting quirk of his lips, but it was something, and for that Natalia was grateful. "She'll be okay, Eric," she said softly, smiling as he nodded. "And you will be, too."

Eric gave a slight nod, shifting on the bench as the vibration of his phone got his attention. "Thanks, 'Talia," he murmured, furrowing his brow as he took his phone in his hands and glanced at the number on the display – he didn't recognize it.

She couldn't read his expression; couldn't discern whether the call held good or bad implications – she leaned toward bad, though, simply from his hesitance to answer it. "Want me to go?" she asked quietly, again tapping his elbow.

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Eric was shaking his head. "No, stay," he muttered. He was filled suddenly with a sense of trepidation as he answered the call, almost afraid of who he would hear on the other line. "Delko."

For a moment, there was merely silence. And then, Eric's fears were confirmed as the thick accented voice of Calleigh's Russian captor drifted almost lazily over the wire. "My, my, Delko, it took you long enough to answer. I do hope I'm not…_interrupting_ something," he remarked snidely.

Eric growled. "What you're interrupting is my job – you know, the one where I hunt you down and –"

"Now, now," Vadim simpered, the oiliness in his voice enough to leave Eric's skin crawling. "Let's be rational adults here – after all, I _only_ called to see how your afternoon was going. Just a friendly chat."

Out of the corner of his eye, Eric caught the swift movement of Natalia as she whipped out her own cell and hastily tapped out a text – to whom, though, Eric had not the time to ponder. His mind was divided between processing the voice at his ear, and controlling his own body as the rage began to pour through him once again. "Get to the point, Nabokov," he snarled, using the surname that Vadim's associate had given up in interrogation.

It was meant to shake him, to show the process they were making in the case, but rather than be intimidated, Vadim only seemed delighted. "So you found out who I am, did you? Too bad _that_ doesn't help you – my name isn't going to tell you where I am…or where your pretty blonde babe is." Vadim gave a theatrical gasp, as if remembering the original reason for his call. "Speaking of…I have a message from her. She wants you to stop looking for her."

"Yeah, I bet she wants that just as much as you swear she wants you, right?" Eric retorted.

"It's true," Vadim insisted with a smirk. "She's forgotten _all_ about you by now. I mean, we had the _best_ little rendezvous not too long ago, actually." He paused, giving a dark snicker. "That's why I'm in _such_ a good mood right now. Hell, I'm in such a good mood that I'd even be willing to let your – oops, I mean _my_ princess talk to you…but she's, ah, just _exhausted."_

"You son of a bitch," Eric growled, his entire body tensing. He had no way of knowing whether or not Vadim was bluffing, but just hearing all of that in his oily voice was enough to have him shaking with anger. "If you've touched her –"

"I promise you, I've done _more_ than touch her…"

"I swear to God I'll kill you," Eric finished. Beside him, Natalia couldn't help but shiver – the conviction in those words was unlike anything she'd ever heard before, and were Eric to ever find himself alone with Vadim, she had no doubt that he'd make good on that promise.

"Yeah, yeah, so you've told me," Vadim replied with a fake yawn. "You need new material, Delko – hearing the same, silly rant several times over is starting to bore me. Why, I bet pretty little Calleigh could come up with something better even as she sleeps, all passed out from the blissful delirium I showed her just this afternoon. That's what makes her so very sexy – she's beautiful, but clever too, and I like that a lot."

At that, Eric leapt to his feet, unable to contain the tension and still remain seated. "Look," he snarled, vaguely hearing the soft vibration of Natalia's phone, but paying it and her hushed voice as she answered no mind at all. "I am _done_ playing this game with you – you hear me? I am _done."_

Vadim snickered. "Good. That means I win." Eric opened his mouth, but didn't have a chance to refute that. "And now, I am going to go enjoy my prize some more. Have a _fabulous_ evening, Delektorsky. I know _I_ will."

And with that, the connection went dead, leaving Eric struggling to fight back the nearly consuming urge to put his fist through one of the many lockers before him. "Damn it," he growled, shoving his phone back in his pocket with one hand while the other rubbed at his eyes, burning with exhaustion and frustration. "_Damn it!"_

"Eric!" Natalia called out, disconnecting her own call. With quiet steps she approached him, laying a gentle palm along his forearm. He was still shaking, seething with fury, and really, Natalia couldn't blame him. For all her earlier scolding about letting the Russians get under his skin like this, she knew there was really no way he could help it – Vadim was toying with him, playing games because he _knew_ that was the easiest way to break Eric. As if taking Calleigh wasn't bad enough, he had to taunt Eric about it. "I need you to calm down for a moment, okay?" she coaxed softly.

It was an impossible request, and both of them knew it. Eric scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't, Natalia. I – I –" he stammered, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as the words refused to reach his lips. "I am _done_ with these Russians," he muttered after a moment.

"I know," Natalia said quietly, wishing Eric would meet her eyes. She frowned, unable to stem the growing concern she felt for him. "But listen, Eric – that was Travers who just called me." At that, Eric finally did briefly glance up, and for a second Natalia could see the depth of his worry for Calleigh – he was _terrified_. "I texted him right after you answered your phone; asked him to run a remote trace on that call, and –"

"We tried to trace it before," Eric interrupted, turning to his own locker on the other row. He pulled it open rather abruptly, his frustration very much in evidence as the door rattled off of the locker right next to it. "He's jammed the signal somehow – we couldn't get a location."

"Well, that was before."

At that, Eric's head snapped up, his attention entirely focused on his companion. "Are you saying we got something?" he asked, shrugging slowly into the spare button-down he kept in his locker.

"South Beach," Natalia replied. "I had a hunch when it seemed like you didn't recognize the number. When I was sure who it was, I got Travers on it immediately, thinking that if it was a different number, maybe this guy slipped up and we'd be able to run a trace." Pausing, she offered a quick smile. "The GPS pinged almost immediately – Travers got an exact location. That's what he just called me for – he gave me an address and patrol is on their way out there now."

Eric held her gaze as his fingers worked the buttons on his shirt; it wasn't until the last one was threaded through its corresponding loop that he spoke. "Well?" he pressed, mild sarcasm just barely kept beneath the surface – Natalia's earlier words still rang in his ears, and he was just waiting for her to tell him no, that he needed to step back. And he was ready to argue – this was the first real break they'd gotten, and Eric had no intention of stepping back.

Lucky for him, Natalia had no intention of telling him to step back – she'd heard Eric's side of the call; she'd watched as the anger rose viscerally within him, bubbling over and nearly consuming him. It was clear how badly he was affected by this; it was clear how deeply he cared for Calleigh, and despite her earlier warnings, she wasn't going to be the one to stand between Eric and his mission, not right now, anyway. Quickly she gathered the first aid kit from where it remained on the bench and placed it back in her locker, closing the door with an audible clang before turning back to Eric, determination in her own dark eyes as she spoke.

"Let's go."

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_**Hey guys - those of you who have this story on alert will have gotten an alert for chapter 12 along with this one. That was a mistake on my part; I was replacing another chapter of this story and accidentally uploaded it as chapter 12 instead because that's how much of a genius I am, lol. But yeah, ch11 is the only update at this time and I apologize for any confusion. **_


	12. twelve

_I apologize for the amount of time between updates - with this story, it was never my intention to let it go so long, but let's just say that a lot of different things happened over the past few months. It is not in danger of being abandoned though. I appreciate those of you who are still with me - I know it likely looks bad for Calleigh at this point, but I really appreciate those of you who trust my writing and are willing to stick with the story until the end. More than anything, I really appreciate the supportive reviews - after all this time, it means a lot that you are still reading, so I thank y'all for that. And finally, major thanks to Lemon Green for helping contribute to this and letting me bounce ideas off of - this chapter would not have happened if not for that. :)_

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**_/12/_**_  
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She was underwater.

Under several meters of icy, pitch dark water.

At least, that was how it felt to Calleigh. Her mind was hazy, only half there; she could barely feel her fingers and toes. Breathing felt like the most difficult task she'd ever had to attempt; it seemed so much easier to let go, to not expend the effort. But somehow, her lungs continued to take in air; still, she continued to try and surface. But every time it felt like she was getting close, it felt as though she were being pulled farther under the water. Her feet wouldn't kick; ensnared by seaweed, maybe. Or maybe a broken fishing net…all she knew was _something_ was keeping her beneath the surface. Something was pulling her back into the dark every time her eyes began to open.

Her ears perceived sound, but the waves were distorted. She could hear a low hum, one that seemed to get closer and then back away, cyclically. She could hear the decelerated beat of her heart, the slow rush of blood through her ears. It made little sense to her – if she were fighting, shouldn't it be faster? More frantic? But then again, little made sense to her dully aching head, and whatever did, well, it was gone by the time her mind could grasp hold of it.

She would swear she could hear voices. Hushed voices, distorted by the world of water she'd swear she was submerged in. Calleigh tried to move toward them, but it seemed as though they were all around her, and nowhere all at the same time. And her arms, just as her legs, felt as though they were little more than dead weight. She couldn't move. Couldn't swim. Couldn't surface.

She was going to drown.

And then, after what felt like an eternity of flailing about in the dark water, it seemed as though her head finally broke the surface. Shakily, Calleigh passed through the boundary between sleep and lucidity, only to find that she was completely dry. Freezing, but dry. She'd never been underwater at all, but damn, it had felt like it. She could still feel the added pressure against her chest, contracting her lungs in silent opposition to the air that tried to fill them. But somehow, she held on. Despite the urge to drift back into the sleep from which she'd just awoken, she held on, knowing somewhere in her mind that if she gave in again, she might truly die.

And so she concentrated, forced her body to hold on. The quiet hum she'd heard – it was the air conditioner, gusting in air that was much too cold; she shivered, covered only by the robe Vadim had replaced her clothes with. The beat of her heart faded slightly from her ears, though still she could feel it in her chest. And the voices…

They remained hushed, and with a greater strength than she thought she could muster, Calleigh managed to force her eyes open. First, there was nothing – her eyes were blurry, out of focus. A few blinks gave her nothing for the room seemed empty – the voices were coming from much closer to the door, from the little alcove she could not see even if she craned her neck. As she focused on the voices, they seemed to meld together into a single voice, and Calleigh quickly realized that she'd only ever heard the one to begin with.

It was unfamiliar, that much she knew. Unfamiliar, but chillingly Russian. The realization left her drawing in a sharp breath, though it felt far more like seawater to her burning throat. And that was terrifying – suddenly she was struggling for oxygen, but seemingly unable to get it. Whether from panic or fear, she felt her throat closing, constricting her windpipe and reducing frantic gulps for air to mere, whistling wheezes. Struggling against the heaviness in her limbs, Calleigh tried to pull herself upright, though the quick, erratic change in position only seemed to worsen everything. And then, the coughing began. The first brought forth a seemingly endless sputtering fit – she couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the pain, the coughing, the breathlessness. And worst of all, she had no idea why.

Her eyes watered, blurring her already unfocused vision. She'd left the nightmare behind, and yet, she was still going to drown. The realization that this could very well be the end only sent her into an even greater panic – she didn't _want_ to die. She _wanted_ to breathe, to get out of this, to see Eric again. This wasn't the way it was supposed to end.

Her panic only intensified as she felt the bed dip heavily – _Vadim_. In her hazy mind, that much she could remember and now, she felt his hands on her, strong and forceful, turning her cheeks toward his silhouette. Despite the rebellion of her lungs, Calleigh fought – fought _hard_. Whatever he wanted, she was not going to let him have, and she would fight him until her last breath.

In her blurred, swimming vision, Calleigh could just make out the outline of something blue in front of her, held by the man who also held her. With her free hand, she blindly reached out, instinctively trying to knock it away, but her fingers only encountered empty air. A hand caught her wrist as the other lifted the blue object – a cup, she realized – to her lips. "Drink this," the man said, his words a gruff command that left Calleigh only wanting to turn her head. Gasping for air, she continued to struggle, though in the end it did little good. "_Drink_," he said again, his command more forceful than before. "It's just water – I just got it from the tap. It'll help."

His accent was too strong – _too strong_ – and every instinct screamed at her not to trust him. But there was little else she could do – she was choking, she couldn't breathe, could feel the blackness tear at the edge of her vision and Calleigh would fight tooth and nail before letting herself fall into the darkness again. Being out of control was one thing; being out of control _and_ not knowing what was going on around her was simply terrifying.

Much too strong for her, the Russian tilted her head back and forced the cup to her lips again. "Just drink the damn water," he commanded, exasperation clear in his voice, and by now, Calleigh could no longer resist. The coughing had eased, but her throat still felt as though lined with sandpaper – one dry swallow might set off the painful sputtering again. Taking advantage of the lapse in coughing, the Russian sighed exasperatedly – this was _not_ his idea of a good afternoon - and relied on an old trick. Gently, he pinched the bridge of Calleigh's nose, closing off her already precarious airway. Almost immediately, Calleigh's lips parted, and after a moment's pause, the Russian quickly tipped the cup back, forcing water into her mouth.

And it was, as he'd said, simply water. It was cool and soothing to her cottony mouth, even more to her burning throat. The relief was overwhelming, and Calleigh drank willingly, lifting her own hand to the cup. "There you go, sweetheart," the Russian murmured, lightly stroking her back. "I told you it would help…"

Ignoring that, Calleigh simply drank, closing her eyes as the pain and even the constriction in her throat eased – didn't disappear, but at least it eased enough for Calleigh's eyes to stop watering. Emptying the cup in her hand, Calleigh blinked slowly, though she was still unable to completely focus her vision. The cup and her hand, she could make out, but everything beyond that remained blurry. A dull ache plagued her head, dull for now but promising to worsen in due time. Drawing in a deep breath, Calleigh closed her eyes, groaning softly in both pain and exhaustion – she couldn't hold that back.

Adding to the pain were the racing thoughts in her mind. Above all, she was confused. The man with her now was very clearly Russian, a member of the same mob that Vadim belonged to. But somehow he was _different_ – that fact was blindingly clear to her even as she continued to struggle to clear her vision. He'd offered her water when she needed it; Vadim would've smirked and watched as she fought. She'd felt the Russian's touch on her – his hands felt so much less greedy than Vadim's, somehow assuring Calleigh that he wasn't there to take what he wanted from her, unlike Vadim. There was something almost…_caring_ about him, and that only intensified the haze in her mind. He was Russian, he was part of Vadim's crew…but he wasn't?

And, more importantly, _where_ was Vadim? And would he be back? Calleigh was almost sure of that, but couldn't help but hope for the alternative. The confusion continued to mount even as her vision slowly cleared – regaining her eyesight did nothing, it seemed, except intensify the haze swirling about in her mind. The curtains were drawn, leaving her with no clue as to how long she had been out of it – and that frightened her more than she would be willing to admit. She had _no_ way of knowing what had happened during her unconsciousness – for all she knew, she might've been out a day or more. And Vadim had been there when she'd blacked out; had he stayed after that, though? And if he had, what had he done? He'd taunted her while awake, and the sickening hunger in his eyes was undeniable each time he looked at her in that barely decent robe. And now, she was missing an entire chunk of her memory…those were thoughts that left her empty stomach churning.

A sharp sting at her shoulder brought her quickly out of her disheartening thoughts. With a wince and a quick turn of her head, Calleigh gasped quietly, though whether because of the bloody gash at her shoulder or because the Russian had taken advantage of her distant mind and managed to maneuver her robe out of the way without her even noticing it, she couldn't be too sure. Brow furrowed, she watched as the Russian treated the gash – a gash she hadn't even realized was there – with antiseptic and quickly covered it with a bandage before skillfully sliding her sleeve back into place.

When he was done, he met her confused gaze, and though he didn't smile, Calleigh couldn't deny that there was something in his eyes, something that seemed so entirely different than anything she'd ever seen in Vadim's. "Vadim told me to leave it, but I wasn't going to sit here and let you bleed," he explained, though it took Calleigh's mind a moment to process what exactly he meant. "It's clean and bandaged now – you may have a scar, but nothing worse than that once it heals. It really wasn't _that_ deep of a cut, just a rather heavy bleeder. How are you feeling otherwise?"

The smart thing to do would have been to keep silent. The Russians had proven time and time again that they were all too happy to use any information to their benefit. But instead, the words fell from Calleigh's lips before she could stop them, and while _that_ particular piece of knowledge might not be _too_ beneficial to the man, it still wasn't exactly the best idea to readily answer the questions he asked. "My head…"

He hummed softly. "Yeah, I thought so. I'd give you something," he said, rather regretfully if Calleigh was reading his tone correctly, "but I have no way of knowing what Vadim used to knock you out. I'm not sure how much is still in your system, and I'd be fearful that something for the pain might react badly with that." He stood from the bed finally, and if anything Calleigh was grateful for the distance he put between himself and her as he moved toward the far wall. "I'd imagine your shoulder is giving you a bit of hell too, yes?"

Instinctively Calleigh brought a hand to her shoulder, feeling through the fabric of her robe the bandage which lay beneath. It did sting; throbbed, even. And as Calleigh wracked her brain, trying to remember just what had happened, she only found herself falling farther and farther into confusion. "What…I don't know…"

She trailed off, furrowing her brow in frustration. She _was _missing a huge chunk of her memory, it seemed, and that only intensified the fear and the confusion, not to mention the utter sense of being out of control that she felt. Turning her eyes toward the Russian, she struggled to formulate a question in her mind, though it never reached her lips.

He, however, seemed to know just what she wanted to ask. "To be honest, I can't say," he said quietly. "Your sleeve was bloody when I arrived, so I don't know – it is quite likely though that Vadim wanted…" he paused for a moment, thinking carefully. "That he wanted your blood for something." Before Calleigh could question him further on that, he quickly continued, repeating what he'd assured her of before. "It's taken care of now, though, so aside from the obvious pain, you'll be fine."

It made no sense to her at all – Vadim had made it clear that he didn't care even the slightest bit about her well-being. And yet here was another Russian, and along with apparently being concerned about whatever was in her system, he'd offered her water and tended to the wound at her shoulder. Closing her eyes, Calleigh found herself mildly dizzied by the confusion. She wanted to lie back and rest her head, but that was something she _couldn't_ allow herself to do. If she wasn't already in too vulnerable a position, that small move would do it. "I don't understand…" she muttered, lifting her unbound hand to rub at her eyes. "I thought – I don't – he –" She stammered, struggling with the words.

Lifting her eyes to the Russian again, she watched for a moment as he rested casually, almost lazily against the far wall, simply watching her as she attempted to link things together in her foggy mind. Calleigh gave a half-shrug, drawing attention to her shoulder, the one he'd mended only moments before. "I don't get it…why would Va – why would _he_ send a doctor?" she asked finally.

The Russian shook his head. "Not a doctor," he said simply and gruffly, and though Calleigh's head ached far too much to read between the lines, she couldn't deny that there was just something in his voice, perhaps a warning that this was a subject he was entirely unwilling to discuss. She logged that in her memory though as he continued, crossing his arms loosely about his chest. "More like…a babysitter. _Vadim_ –" even in her hazy state, Calleigh couldn't ignore the contempt in that utterance – "seems to think that you need a babysitter. Seems to believe that you are…resourceful enough to wrangle your way out of _both_ a pair of handcuffs and a drugged haze."

None of that was important to Calleigh – the only issue that left her heart racing and her breath quickening was the issue of Vadim. "Where – where is he?" she asked hesitantly, not even knowing that this man – she didn't even know his name – would answer.

He did, just not completely. "He is…you could say he's running some errands. At least, that's what I was _told_."

The final words were forced out with such a strong resentment that Calleigh couldn't help but pick up on it. For the first time throughout this entire ordeal, the wheels in her mind were beginning to really turn. This man, while part of the Russian mob, seemed nothing like the rest of them. He seemed to even resent being a part of the group. Had he been forced in? Would he walk away if given the chance? Would he continue to humor her if she engaged him in conversation – would he give her enough information to formulate a plan of getting out of there?

She had no phone, no connection whatsoever to the outside world. She couldn't even move from the bed, still restrained by the handcuffs at her wrist, her _own_ handcuffs. And furthermore, she was in pain and still mildly under the influence of some kind of drug, not to mention dressed in her own little robe that was hardly appropriate to be worn outside of her own bedroom. She was helpless.

But this man…if he despised Vadim as much as his tone suggested, then perhaps there was a chance that Calleigh could win him over. There was a chance, however slim, that if she were to play her cards right with him, that he could be her way out. Studying him intently for a moment – he was just a kid, she could tell, maybe twenty-five at the oldest? – Calleigh finally took a deep breath and decided to give it a try. It couldn't hurt, could it? At worst, he could give her nothing…but at best, he could give her the information she needed to escape. "You don't seem like you want to be here, um…" She paused, clearly leaving room for him to fill in his name for her without her outright asking.

For a moment, he simply watched her, and Calleigh had the distinct feeling he was trying to read her mind. Her intentions, though, apparently remained hidden. "Alexei," he provided finally.

"Alexei," she repeated slowly with a slight nod. Even just getting his name was progress and Calleigh knew it. "So, Va – Vadim seemed all too gleeful to be stuck in here with me," she continued, unable to suppress a shudder at the mention of his name. "You act like you _don't _want to be here. Like this is the worst place you could possibly be."

Alexei scoffed. "Do _you_ particularly want to be here?"

Lifting her restrained hand, Calleigh drew his attention toward the handcuffs. "It's not really like I have much of a choice…"

She might've been mistaken, but Calleigh would swear that her comment elicited a slight twitch at Alexei's lips. When he spoke, though, his voice was entirely devoid of amusement. "We've got that in common." For a moment, he was silent, though Calleigh could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Mentally she crossed her fingers, hoping he would choose to elaborate, though knowing there was a great chance he might decide that he'd shared too much. In her mind, she began gathering the little bits of information she knew she wouldn't mind sharing with him, prepared to use them if necessary to prod him into sharing more about him. The concentration left her head aching even more, but for now, Calleigh knew she had to ignore that – she could almost sense her way out of this – if Alexei truly _was_ a weak link to the mob as she suspected. There was, as always though, the fact that he could purposely be leading her to think that way, and Calleigh kept that at the front of her mind as she made her decisions on what she felt she could say to him.

She waited a moment longer, but Alexei still didn't offer anything else. "So where would you rather be?" she prompted slowly, her tone as conversational as possible given the circumstances. "The beach, maybe? Getting ready for a late night out on the town?"

He smirked. "That's typical Miami. Lay on the beach all day, dance and drink all night," he commented derisively. "Hardly. If I could, I would be _so_ far out of this town…"

Calleigh's ears perked. Not only did he seem to resent the Russians, but Miami as well. "Yeah? Where would you go?"

Alexei gave a wistful smile. Glancing to the side, he fixed his eyes on the deep navy curtains for a moment before quietly moving toward them, opening them to let in the sunlight outside. The light hit Calleigh's eyes with a burst of pain to her head, though Alexei didn't seem at all bothered. He gazed outside, taking in the sky, the sand, the sea, everything before he spoke again. "I was born in Seattle," he murmured softly, his back to Calleigh. "I think I'd go back there, even though I don't remember much…except the rain. I know – know that my mother went there to escape all of this. The sun, the heat…the mob. She wanted to be on the opposite coast after I was born."

He turned to Calleigh again, gazing at her as she prompted him to continue. "What happened after that?"

Leaning against the glass, Alexei bowed his head. "She was killed shortly after my fifth birthday. The police never figured out who did it, but I don't need them to tell me that – I _know_ who it was."

The cold fury in his voice sent a shiver down Calleigh's spine – she didn't need him to elaborate further to know who he meant. "The mob…" she murmured. Alexei scoffed, but didn't continue. For a moment, Calleigh simply watched the man, noting the angry furrow of his brow and the clench of his fists at his sides. "They killed your mother and yet you're here still working for them," she said slowly. "Doesn't seem like it makes much sense. Haven't you ever tried to get out?"

"Get out?" Alexei scoffed, slowly shaking his head. "There is no getting out."

"Not completely true," Calleigh said quickly. "I'm a cop, remember? I know how dangerous it is, and I've _seen_ people walk away and attempt to start over again, sometimes with police protection, sometimes with a new identity, sometimes on their own. The point is, it _happens_. I've seen it. You _don't_ have to do this, Alexei." She held his eyes silently a moment longer before dropping her gaze to the comforter. "And, uh, I know from experience. I – I dated a man, another cop. He worked undercover; his entire job was to get in tight with gangs, underground drug cartels, weapons smugglers…you name it. I – I always worried about him, but he told me not to. Said that once you managed to get in, it was easy to stay – it was just getting in that was the hard part." Calleigh paused, swallowing hard. "I didn't really believe that, though. I know what it's like – you can't win their trust and just turn your back on them and walk away, and that was what I was always afraid of with Jake. I was…terrified that he would get in, get what he needed, and then slip away from them, and that they would come after him for that. That they would come after him for tricking them, and they would - they would kill him."

At that, she finally forced herself to lift her eyes again, meeting Alexei's gaze. "They didn't, though. I can't even count how many gangs he's left because the assignment was over – he always got out." She watched carefully for any sign of acknowledgment in Alexei's eyes, but there was none – his dark eyes were unreadable, and Calleigh wondered if she was actually getting through to him at all. "You could, too, you know."

Alexei gave a harsh snort of laughter. "You don't get it, do you?" he questioned as he turned once more toward the door, facing the outside again. "My mother _did_ try to leave. She tried to leave, and she paid with her _life." _Pressing a palm against the glass, he exhaled deeply, trying hard to rein in his anger. "I'm _not_ an undercover cop. I wouldn't _have_ anyone on my side if I tried to leave. And with my father third in command – second now that Sarnoff is dead – there really _is_ no getting out. If I even think about it, all my father has to do is snap his fingers, and suddenly I'm shipped out to sea and tossed overboard for the sharks. And don't think he wouldn't, either – I've seen what happens when people like me try to leave. They leave, all right, but it's sure not the way they'd hoped."

The bitterness in his voice was undeniable; nevertheless, he was resigned to his fate. Calleigh sighed softly, watching him for a moment before shifting slightly on the bed, turning her body toward him as well as she could while still restrained. "I could help you, you know," she said quietly.

Alexei snickered, almost as though truly amused by the prospect. "There is no help for me. It is what it is, Calleigh. I have two choices – I've _always_ had only two choices. Submission or death."

Calleigh shook her head, despite knowing he couldn't see the motion. "Only because you're just as chained as I am," she countered softly, lightly jingling the chain of her cuffs in emphasis. "It wouldn't be so hard, either. You could help me get out of here, and I would return the favor." Even as she spoke, Calleigh's heart was pounding against her chest. These were dangerous suggestions to make to a member of the Russian mob, regardless of said member's feelings toward the mob. It was possible that Vadim had even bugged the room, therefore making it possible for him to listen in on every word that she and Alexei exchanged in his absence. But if there was even a chance at freedom, that was a gamble she couldn't help but be willing to take. "We could go directly to MDPD from here, and –"

"In other words," Alexei interrupted harshly enough that Calleigh flinched, "turn myself in and spend the rest of my life in jail. Isn't that how your mind is working? I _would_ be safe, but only because I'd be in prison for the rest of my life. Right, that's _exactly_ how I want to escape."

"Unless you've done something in the past that I don't know about, you've done nothing wrong." Calleigh paused and took a deep breath, knowing that the line she was walking was growing progressively more dangerous, despite the odd trust she seemed to have in this man – she couldn't help it, there was just something about him that was so entirely different from Vadim. And if there was _any_ possible way of convincing him to help, she was going to try it. "And I…I would vouch for that."

Alexei scoffed. "You would vouch for me," he repeated flatly, slowly turning to face her once more. Casually he leaned against the glass door, his face unreadable as he held her gaze. "And just _why_ would you want to do that? I'm holding you against your will," he added dryly.

"_You're_ not," Calleigh corrected. "And you said it yourself – you're basically being held here too…you've been held hostage for all of your life, have you not? And even…even if you have done something worthy of imprisonment…I would fight to have you granted immunity. Or some kind of deal, at the very, very least. Please…" Hesitating, Calleigh swallowed hard, displeased with the slight wobble in her voice on that single word. Only when she was certain she could steady her voice did she speak again. "Please. If you help me, if you do _anything_ to help me, I will _not_ let you spend the rest of your life in prison. I would owe you my life."

"You would blindly make a deal with someone you don't even know anything about?" Alexei asked, disbelief coating his every word. "Who is to say that I _wouldn't_ go out there and start killing people? Robbing people? Maybe even a bit of kidnapping – we're good at that in the mob," he added dryly. "I may resent them, but let's be honest, there is _no_ reason for you to trust that I would be any different outside of the mob." His real implication went unspoken, but it was crystal clear to Calleigh: _And therefore, there's no reason for you to uphold your end of the bargain._

She wasn't sure what it was at that very moment, but something that Alexei had said before finally clicked into place for her. The care with which he'd bandaged her arm, the attentiveness with which he'd examined her eyes, his reluctance to give her anything for her headache because it might interfere with whatever Vadim had injected her with. Anybody with a brain and the slightest scrap of compassion would have acted the same, but when added to Alexei's cynicism when she'd assumed he was a doctor…she was certain he would have chosen that path if he'd had the choice. Furthermore, it answered the question he'd posited to Calleigh. "First, do no harm," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his. "Right?"

For a moment, he said nothing. Instead, he simply gazed appraisingly at her, eyebrow slightly lifted. It was true, he knew those words well, despite never having the chance to put them into use – not in a white coat, anyway. "You know that's a common misconception, do you not?" he asked quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. "It's implied, but the Hippocratic Oath doesn't explicitly contain that phrase."

That was all Calleigh needed; at this point, she was certain she had pegged him correctly. Alexei, if not forced into a life of submission by the Russian mob, would have wanted to put his skills to use somewhere in the medical profession. "Regardless, if you didn't believe in it anyway, you would have let me choke to death," she said quietly. "Not only didn't you, but you brought me water. You took care of my shoulder. You even refused to give me something for my head…not because you wanted me to suffer, but because you didn't want it to interfere with whatever he might've given me – you said it yourself."

"And it's not possible that I was lying?"

Calleigh shook her head. "I'm a CSI. I've _been_ a CSI for over ten years. I know how to read people; I know when they're lying."

Alexei smirked. "Confident in your abilities, hmm?"

She was; in fact, she was _very_ confident, but rather than acknowledge that further, Calleigh chose to ignore it, refusing to be drawn away from her objective. "Help me," she implored softly, a direct plea that under any other circumstances she might've been unwilling to utter. "Help me, and I'll do everything I can to help you walk away from this. You can still have a future – you don't have to be tied to this forever. You're still young and your life is far from over." For a moment, Calleigh paused, allowing her proposition time to sink in before continuing. "You know, you would have plenty of time to go to school, if that's what you want. Med school."

At that, he couldn't help but look away – Calleigh had hit the nail right on the head. He offered nothing in reply, though he didn't really have to anyway. "I can help you, Alexei," Calleigh repeated quietly. She smiled softly, glancing briefly down at the bedspread. "My ex, he was, uh, we'll call him pretty reckless," she said with a chuckle, though it was more for show than true mirth. "If the police department could keep him safe all these years, after all the people he managed to anger while undercover, it would be easy to keep you out of the mob's hands…if you just let me, let _us_ help you."

"They did a fine job keeping you safe, didn't they?" he retorted, his voice a low growl. "You don't _get_ it, Calleigh – when the mob wants something, they _get_ it. You _know_ why they took you, don't you? They took you because your boyfriend thought that he could outsmart them. He thought that he'd covered all the bases, except the single one that was most important, and because of that, you're here. So excuse me if I'm finding it hard to believe that the police can keep me alive when they couldn't even keep one of their own from falling into the clutches of the Russians."

"You don't believe me?" Calleigh challenged, quickly switching tactics in her mind – she _knew_ she was close to breaking through to him, but the final barrier simply didn't want to give. "Are you sure that's it? Or are you too scared to even try, Alexei? Would you rather keep living the way you are now? Would you rather be ordered around by people like Vadim and your father instead of trying to make something of yourself?"

"What I want doesn't matter," he growled quietly.

Clearly that answer had been drilled into Alexei's head from a very young age. "So make it matter," Calleigh persisted, waiting for him to glance back to her before continuing. "Think for yourself." She hesitated, knowing her next statement would likely hit a nerve. "Your mother sacrificed her life to try and get you away from all of this. Do you want that to mean nothing?"

"If I die trying to get out, it _still_ means nothing."

"But at least then you would have tried," Calleigh added softly. "I think that counts for more than staying just because it's the easy thing to do." To that, Alexei said nothing. With a heavy sigh, Calleigh slowly lay back, resting her aching head upon the pillow. "But then again, I guess you're just like all the rest of them after all."

Alexei bit roughly at the inside of his cheek, hard enough to fill his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. That statement was the sharpest dagger yet; to be equated with the very people he hated so dearly was enough to make his blood boil in his veins. "_What_ could you possibly want me to do?" he questioned sharply, lifting his hands in frustration. "I'm not about to leave you alone and go down to the police station to tell them where you are – if Vadim comes back, he'll kill you and come after me. If I did _anything_ to compromise his plan, he _would_ kill you. He doesn't give a damn about whether you live or die – none of this has _anything_ to do with you." He stopped for a moment, long enough to draw in a breath and attempt to calm himself, if only a bit. "Keeping you here is torture to Eric…but so is killing you. The only reason you are even still alive is because Vadim isn't done with this sick game he's playing with Eric, but don't you think he won't be quick to abandon that if anything were to go wrong. If he came back here and I was gone, you can bet that he'd slash your throat before you could even scream."

Swallowing hard, he slowly approached the bed, noticing only vaguely that Calleigh tensed. "So don't you _dare_ accuse me of being just like the rest of them – _no _one else gives a damn about keeping you alive. I'm not about to walk out of here under the guise of _helping_ you only to get you killed. And don't even say anything about me leaving here _with_ you – I wouldn't be surprised if there's some kind of tracker on you somewhere. On you, in you, wherever."

That was something that Calleigh hadn't even thought about – it was mildly far-fetched, but even so, the idea sent an irrepressible shudder coursing through her body. "Fine," she relented, lowering her eyes as she slumped her shoulders. To an observer, she appeared defeated, all of her arguments and ideas having been shot down. But her mind was still rapidly churning despite the ever-growing ache in her head. There had to be something, anything she could use to appeal to his desire to be a doctor. Instinctively she tried to draw her arms over her chest, but was immediately reminded of the cuffs that bound her by the sharp, cutting pain at her wrist.

And then, it was like a lightbulb came on over her head. She couldn't tell that it would work, but the idea was formulating in her mind faster than she could ponder the cons of it. Gazing up at Alexei, she prayed that her eyes didn't give her away and instead maintained the defeated look she'd adopted just moments before. "So don't help me like _that_," she said, watching as Alexei lifted a brow in question. "You don't have to go anywhere. I won't go anywhere. Vadim would never know."

Seemingly intrigued, Alexei furrowed his brow. "What are you saying?"

"Help doesn't mean you have to help me escape," she replied, swallowing before continuing. Lightly she shook her wrist, gently rattling the cuffs and wincing visibly for good measure. "I struggled against him when he brought me in here, and I guess in payback for that, he cuffed my wrist too tightly, and it hurts. My wrist feels raw, and my fingers feel like they're going numb." Pausing, she watched Alexei's eyes, looking for any indication that her words were sinking in. "I'm a CSI, Alexei. I work in the lab with chemicals and instruments that need the most precision possible. If I ever get out of here, I won't be able to work if the nerves in my hand end up damaged. I _need_ my hands to work."

It sounded good to her, but then again, Alexei was the one who wanted to be a doctor; he was the one she needed to convince. Knowing this, Calleigh tried another tactic. "And he's had me stuck here for a long time," she added, nibbling in staged anxiety at her lip as her eyes darted briefly to the side, toward the adjoining bathroom, just long enough to make her intentions clear. "And I need to, uh…"

For a moment, Alexei merely watched in silence, as though trying to read her intentions. Calleigh forced herself to hold his gaze, silently praying that he wouldn't see through her façade. After a silence that felt as if it stretched on for an eternity, it seemed as though he believed her…and if she wasn't mistaken, Calleigh saw a flash of what appeared to be genuine apology flicker through his eyes. "I don't have a key," he murmured finally.

She tried to remain passive, but even Calleigh couldn't deny that those words had her latching on to just the tiniest bit of hope, slim though it might've been. Fighting the ache in her tired muscles, Calleigh sat up again, instinctively pulling her robe tighter over her body. A moment passed while she watched Alexei, almost as though trying to gauge his reaction before ever saying her next words. "What if you did have one?" she asked slowly. "Or what if you knew where to find one?"

Alexei shook his head. "I doubt Vadim would have been daft enough to leave the key behind," he said dryly.

Calleigh knew that – she'd seen him put the key in his pocket after making sure she was securely restrained. "Vadim…he put my things in the bathroom before you got here, before he…" She trailed off, though Alexei needed no elaboration to know she was referring to his drugging her. "I know he put my clothes in there, anyway. My purse is probably in there too…could – could you get that?"

Again, Alexei lifted a curious brow, though to his credit he did as Calleigh asked. As he slipped into the bathroom, Calleigh bit at her lip – if she was playing with fire before, what she was doing now was downright explosive. It wasn't as if she had another choice though – well, she did, but that choice involved simply lying back and waiting for Vadim to return for whatever…_games_ he had planned next. The prospect of that sent a chill careening down her spine, and Calleigh exhaled deeply, struggling to maintain her composure.

A quick moment passed before Alexei returned to the bedroom, Calleigh's purse in hand, to her immense relief. His eyes remained curious, and mentally Calleigh crossed her fingers, praying that perhaps she'd succeeded in winning him over to her side thus far. She swallowed, knowing Alexei was waiting for her to speak. "In the main compartment, there is…there's a makeup compact. Powder. It's big and bulky; can't miss it. Can you get that out?" she asked finally, her voice wavering slightly.

He did so silently, questioning her only when he had the compact in hand. "Open it," Calleigh continued, her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest; she could hear the blood pulsing fiercely through her ears, serving only to intensify the pounding ache in her head. "Pop the powder tray out of it – it shouldn't give too easily, but if you try – " she stopped, watching as Alexei pressed along the side of the tray until a quiet yet audible click signaled exactly what Calleigh had been hoping to point out to him.

Alexei smirked, his eyes on the contents of the compact before slowly he lifted his gaze to Calleigh. "You just…always carry this around with you? Just in case of something like this?"

The ghost of a smile touched Calleigh's lips for just the briefest of seconds. "I guess so, yeah," she answered nonchalantly, watching intently as Alexei slowly withdrew the key from the hidden compartment. It was the spare key to her handcuffs, one that luckily Vadim had not found, and that Calleigh was thankful she'd left in her purse, despite never really believing that she'd need it – after all, she was never the type to lose the original key in the first place. In retrospect, it might've made more sense to carry a spare house key or a car key in the secret compartment, but at the moment, Calleigh was thankful it was the spare to her cuffs – neither her house key nor her car key would do her any good at the moment.

He was still watching her carefully, almost as though trying to read her mind. Sighing, Calleigh attempted to explain her intentions – at least, the ones she could reveal to him. "Look, I'm not going to try anything. You – you didn't let me choke to death earlier. You said part of the reason you refused to help me was because you weren't going to get me killed. I – I respect that, and I won't try anything that would get you killed." She took a deep breath. "You saved my life, and I won't do anything to put yours in danger either. I just really need to get off of this bed and into the bathroom. Please?"

It was a long shot, Calleigh knew. And so, she was stunned when Alexei slowly approached the bed, key in hand. "You _know_ that I'll have to make sure you're locked up again before Vadim returns, don't you?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes serious. "If he comes back and _anything_ is out of place, he'll kill us both. Do you understand me?"

Calleigh nodded quickly, unable to suppress the hope in her eyes as Alexei took the cuffs in one hand and fed the key into the slot with the other. A quick turn and a soft click later, and Calleigh's aching wrist was free – free of the cuffs, yes, but as soon as they came off, Alexei's fingers immediately wrapped around her wrist. She'd expected that, though, just as she expected his gently drawing her up from the bed and onto slightly unsteady feet, just as she'd expected his leading her to the bathroom. "Thank you," she murmured hoarsely as he ushered her swiftly into the bathroom.

"I'm not leaving the hotel room," he said instead of replying to her, his dark eyes conveying the gravity of what he'd done for her. "I can't let you leave…and don't think I won't do everything in my power to stop you if you try anything. And because it's for your own good, I wouldn't even begin to hesitate."

With that, he finally released her wrist – she was entirely unrestrained for the first time in…she wasn't sure how long it had been at this point. Alexei held her gaze for a moment longer, seemingly assuring himself of the situation. And then, he finally turned and exited the bathroom, leaving her blissfully alone. As soon as the door closed behind him, Calleigh couldn't stop the sigh of relief that fell from her lips.

It was brief, though; Calleigh didn't allow herself any time to linger on that as there simply wasn't time for it. A quick bit of estimation told her she had ten, maybe fifteen minutes at the most. Perhaps twenty, if she turned on the shower. Much longer than that, and even Alexei would likely grow suspicious.

Knowing this, Calleigh quickly discarded her robe – she would never wear _that_ again – and slipped back into the clothes that Vadim had taken from her as she'd showered before. Once that was finished, she forced her tired mind into a mental survey of the bathroom, searching for _anything_ that she could possibly use to her advantage – either against Alexei, or Vadim later on.

She was desperate for _anything _that might aid her. After all, Calleigh knew this momentary bit of freedom could be her last chance.


End file.
